


dorian

by nettlestingsoup



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boarding School, Coming Out, Dark Academia, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Past Suicide Attempt, Self-Discovery, jisung has an eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 52,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nettlestingsoup/pseuds/nettlestingsoup
Summary: When Jeongin first arrives at his new boarding school, he knows he's about to start a life of new experiences- but what greets him there is beyond his imagination. Met by a group of bright, brilliant individuals who welcome him with open arms, Jeongin begins to see that there is far more to life than what he knew.Things escalate when he realises that between sips of wine, the strokes of a paint brush, and the pull of a bow against violin strings, he has fallen in love for the first time. It's scary and exciting, and as he slowly begins to learn who he is through the words of Shelley and Sappho, will Jeongin be able to teach the boy with poetry in his heart that love doesn't have to be tragic, to be true?
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Kim Seungmin, Hwang Hyunjin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 89
Kudos: 212





	1. wilde

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! As promised, I'm back with a new story; this is my first ever non-magical work, so I hope people enjoy it. It was distantly inspired by the On Track music video, and by the fact I coped with a summer spent in quarantine by reading poetry by candlelight.
> 
> Due to the long chapters, updates will be every three days rather than every two, so the next update will be Friday.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoy this <3

If anyone had cared to ask Jeongin, months or years down the road, what he had first noticed about the school, he would have said the tower.

It might not have been the truth. Perhaps, if he relived the moment, the first thing he saw from the window of his father’s sleek black car might have been the gates, wrought iron and spired against the September sky; or the lake, black as ink, two boys in dark tweed uniforms sitting on the slightly decrepit pier, watching the car roll up the driveway; or even the heavy crest set above the door, motto inscribed in Latin and stone.

But the tower, a slender turret that reached up to the clouds, high above the rest of the dark slate roofs of the school, would always be the image that stayed with him.

Perhaps it was a combination of later moments that drove it so firmly into his imagination; red wine, a new taste to him back then; candlelight, catching on the cobwebs and the features of a friend; a voice he grew to love so dearly and so desperately, asking questions to the night.

In truth, there would be no way to tell.

But from Jeongin’s perspective, flawed as the memory might be, the first thing he saw of the school was the tower.

* * *

Only one person was there to greet him in his new dorm. There were seven of them, apparently, himself the youngest, but aside from one - shorter than himself, a mess of dark curls almost falling into his eyes - they were all absent.

He held out a hand for Jeongin to shake. "Hey. I’m Chan. I’m the head boy."

Jeongin hesitated a little as he took it. "So you’re not- you don’t live in this dorm?"

"Oh, I do," Chan explained. "I just thought it would be good to let you know that I’m the one you’re supposed to come to if anything’s bothering you."

"Oh," Jeongin said awkwardly. "Thanks. I didn’t… I didn’t think there would be anything like that here."

Chan laughed. "Yeah, we’re all a little old for the whole head boy thing, right? Apparently not. They like to pretend this is just an extension of boarding school. I suppose it appeases the egos of the kids who are only here because they’re too stupid for their parents to even bribe universities into taking them."

Jeongin blinked. That was a perspective he hadn’t expected. "To anyone who matters, a qualification from this school is worth more than a first from the most prestigious university," his father had told him. "Generations of our family have learned here, Jeongin. I expect you to live up to everything they accomplished."

Apparently, not everyone shared his opinion.

"Are there many people like that here?" he asked.

"Not in this dorm," Chan told him. "Everyone in here knows how to think for themselves." He smiled a little crookedly. "I’d introduce you, but I’m not exactly sure where any of them are. Changbin and Felix tend to hang around by the lake, and I think Seungmin will be with Jisung somewhere but…" he trailed off with a shrug.

"I think I saw two of them," Jeongin told him. "By the lake. One of them had his feet in the water."

"That’ll be them," Chan confirmed. "Come on. Let’s take your suitcase to your room and then we’ll go and meet them."

Chan led him up a step to a room with two beds, one at a right angle to the other. The one with the headboard on the same wall as the window was already messy, covered in books and tins of pencils and paints.

"You’re roommates with Hyunjin," Chan said. "Not that he spends much time in here. He’s the year above you."

Jeongin nodded, unsure of how to respond to the information. He placed his suitcase neatly on the bed, and let Chan explain to him the structure of the rest of the dorm.

"We have our social space, which is where I met you; we call it the atrium. It’s basically just somewhere to hang out. Then off that, you have four rooms. You share with Hyunjin, Changbin and Jisung share that one, Seungmin and Felix are down there - although they tend to swap a lot - and as Head Boy I get a room to myself. It’s this one," he said, tapping his door lightly. "I tend to be working in there, so if you need me then that’s probably where you can find me. Ok?"

"Ok."

"If I’m not in there, don’t bother looking anywhere else. Look for Jisung instead. He’s probably the next most responsible."

"Ok," Jeongin said again. He really wasn’t sure what to do with all this information. It would come in handy later, he supposed, if he remembered any of it.

* * *

Changbin and Felix were still down by the lake when they arrived. One of them still had his bare feet in the water, shoes placed neatly beside him and trousers rolled up past his ankles. His head was tilted back, face upturned towards the sky, and the stockier of the two was gently combing his fingers through his dark hair.

"Hey!" Chan called as they approached. "New dorm mate."

"Oh?" the boy with his feet in the water asked, opening his eyes and smiling past Chan at Jeongin. "Fresh meat, huh?"

"Don’t scare him," the other chided gently.

"I’m not trying to. I’m Felix," the first called, giving Jeongin a slight wave. The other - Changbin, Jeongin supposed - wandered up along the pier to meet them, shaking Jeongin’s hand.

"Seo Changbin."

"Yang Jeongin."

"Good to meet you. You rooming with Hyunjin?"

"Apparently."

"Got any idea where he is?" Chan asked, and Changbin shrugged.

"I thought he was up in the tower," Felix called from the end of the pier. He swirled his feet in the water gently, watching the way it rippled and shifted rather than facing his companions. "He spends a lot of time up there."

"Good point. Jisung will be in the library, right?"

"Not today," Changbin replied with a heavy sigh. "He started coughing maybe two hours ago. They moved him to the infirmary."

"It’s getting colder out," Chan muttered. "I should have known he’d start getting sick again."

"Plus he’s been home for two months," Felix called. "God knows that’s not good for him."

Jeongin shifted awkwardly, unsure of his place in the conversation, and Changbin smiled at him reassuringly. "Seungmin is probably with him. You should go meet those two. Hyunjin will show up in his own time. He always does."

* * *

Chan led Jeongin back up the lawns, through the great, heavy doors to the school, and along a maze of corridors that Jeongin didn’t think he ever had any hope of memorising. They were panelled in dark wood, portraits and commendations of old attendees hung intermittently, and every single one looked the same.

Eventually, Chan opened the door into a room full of beds, lined up in two rows with the sheets neatly tucked in. Only one was occupied, with one young man lying in it and another sitting cross-legged at his feet. Neither of them spoke until Chan and Jeongin were right beside them, apparently engaged in their own private world.

"You ok?" Chan asked the boy in the bed gently once he’d noticed their presence. He smiled, wide eyes bright, and nodded.

"Just a bad bout of coughs," he explained, voice a little hoarse. "I don’t think it was really caused by anything."

"He’s lying," the other boy said. They were holding hands, Jeongin noticed, one strong and the other so slender it looked as though it might snap. "He’s got a fever."

"Jisung…" Chan said with a sigh. "You need to learn to let yourself rest. Even if you think it’s nothing, if you have any symptoms at all…"

"I need to lie down. I know," Jisung replied. It seemed like a conversation they’d had before. "I’ll be better in a few weeks. It’s always like this after summer." He smiled weakly, and Jeongin watched the other boy’s knuckles turn white. "Seungmin-  _ ow _ -"

"Sorry," Seungmin muttered. "Anyway, who’s this?"

"Jeongin. New dorm mate," Chan said briefly. "Trying to introduce him to everyone so he doesn’t feel totally lost over his first few days."

Jisung beamed at him. "Hi, Jeongin. I’m sorry none of us are in your year, but we’ll help you figure out your timetable and take you to lessons if you’re worried about getting lost."

"Um- thank you," Jeongin said softly. "I wouldn’t- I don’t want to make you guys late for your lessons, though."

Seungmin laughed. "We don’t really go to lessons," he said.

"Oh- is that some kind of second year privilege? Like getting free hours in your last year of school?"

Chan, Jisung, and Seungmin all laughed, but not unkindly. "Nah, we just skive a lot," Jisung explained gently. "There are better things to learn here than what they teach you."

Jeongin flushed as he nodded, feeling more than a little embarrassed. He wasn’t exactly making the best first impression.

"Come on," Chan said gently. "I’ll give you a quick tour. And Jisung, get some  _ rest _ ."

"Don’t worry," Seungmin replied in his stead. "I’m not letting him leave this bed."

"See, I know you mean that in a boring way, but-" Jisung began, and Seungmin slapped the back of his hand gently before he pressed a kiss there.

"Not in front of the new boy," he stage-whispered, and Jisung’s laughter followed Jeongin and Chan out the room, stopping only when the heavy wooden door shut out the sound.

Jeongin hesitated a little as they walked, letting Chan talk about the infirmary for a moment before he voiced the question on his mind. "Sorry," he interrupted, "but are they… Seungmin and Jisung, I mean, are they…?" He trailed off, unsure of whether his implications were too vague.

"You can say it," Chan said, eyebrows raised a little. "It’s not a swear word."

"They’re… gay, right?"

Chan nodded. "Clicked pretty much within a month of their first year here. Seungmin doesn’t leave Jisung’s side now." He turned, fixing Jeongin with a stern look. "If you have a problem with it, I’ll get you transferred to a different dorm. God knows we’ve got enough homophobes at this school for you to get chummy with if you’re inclined that way."

Jeongin shook his head frantically. "No, no, I don’t- I don’t have a problem with it. It’s fine. That they’re together."

"Good," Chan said, tone bright with faux levity as he patted Jeongin on the back. "You and I would have had some issues otherwise. Changbin and Felix are together, too. Just thought I ought to tell you. Oh, and I’m bi. Hyunjin’s… Hyunjin."

"Oh. Ok," Jeongin replied, unsure of how else to respond. He wasn’t actually sure if he’d ever met _any_ gay people before, let alone five in one go.

"Come on. I’ll show you around properly."

The rest of the afternoon was spent trailing around the school after Chan, Jeongin trying desperately to make a map in his head. It was hard when he was constantly distracted by the stares of other pupils, falling silent when he walked in the room, matching expressions of hostile curiosity and matching dark grey tweed.

"They do that to everyone new," Chan told him. "But they won’t pull anything if they know you’re with me."

"And if they didn’t?"

Chan was silent for a moment. "Places like this have… packs. If you don’t find one fast enough, you’re fair game for hunting." He grinned at Jeongin. Somehow it wasn’t reassuring. "But like I said. You’re with me. No one will touch you."

Jeongin did his best to keep that in mind as they passed through another full room, the weight of the stares drawing targets on his back.

He was with Chan. He’d be fine.

* * *

The final member of their dorm didn’t appear until the evening.

Jeongin was sitting on one of the sofas in the social area of their dorm, curled up tight on one corner while Chan sprawled across the rest of it as he studied what appeared to be an anatomy textbook. Changbin and Felix were sharing the other, Changbin reading aloud to Felix in a murmur from a book Jeongin thought might be in Chinese.

"You got everything you need for tonight?" Chan asked him. "I won’t be around tomorrow."

Jeongin nodded, prevented from answering properly by a wolf whistle from somewhere in the doorway. He looked up to see a tall young man lounging there, smiling slightly at Chan. He held a book under one arm, and another, smaller volume protruded from the pocket of his tweed jacket.

"Off to meet your beau tomorrow, Chan?" he asked.

"Shut up," Chan said casually. "Jeongin, this is your roommate, Hyunjin."

Pushing himself off the doorframe, Hyunjin crossed the room and held out a long, slender hand for Jeongin to shake. He was beautiful, Jeongin noticed with startling acuity, with full lips and fine eyes that creased when he smiled in greeting.  "I suppose we’re going to be friends, then," Hyunjin said, and it took Jeongin a moment to think of a reply.

"I hope so," he said, perhaps a little quickly, and Hyunjin’s smile grew broader.

"We should get to know each other properly tomorrow," he suggested. "I can show you some of the places to have fun around here."

"It’s too cold to be dragging him around the grounds," Chan chastised distantly. He had pulled out a pocket knife and was carefully slicing a diagram from his textbook. Jeongin decided not to ask what he needed it for.

"Not really," Changbin said softly from the other sofa. "The morning was a little cold today, but by the afternoon the cloud cover had mostly burned off."

"You just want us to stay in because it’s too cold for Jisung," Felix pointed out, and Chan shrugged.

"You know it upsets him when we all go out without him," he said.

"Yeah, but we can arrange so that someone always sticks around with him, and-"

They continued with their good-natured argument, leaving Jeongin feeling a little left out again until Hyunjin sat down beside him on the arm of the sofa, leaning down to speak to him. " We can sneak off early," he whispered in Jeongin’s ear. "Chan’s a late sleeper."

Jeongin looked at him with wide eyes as he pulled away, unsure of what to say until Hyunjin winked, startling a laugh from him. The others paused in their conversation, obviously a little surprised, and Hyunjin just shrugged.

Seungmin came upstairs soon after, grumbling about not being allowed to sleep in the infirmary.

"They have so many spare beds," he complained. "Why can’t I sleep down there?"

"Because Jisung needs rest," Chan said sensibly.

"And you keep him awake," Changbin added. Felix snorted, and Changbin elbowed him gently in the side. "Not like  _ that _ . They just talk until about four in the morning. He’s sick, he needs sleep."

Once again, Jeongin resisted the urge to ask exactly what was wrong with Jisung. It didn’t feel like his place just yet. Not when he barely knew these people.

Feeling something prickling at his back, he shifted in his seat a little, glancing up with wide eyes to see Hyunjin’s gaze on him still, curious and sparkling. Unsure of how to respond, Jeongin smiled politely, ducking his head and trying to focus back in on the conversation. He didn’t quite manage it, his attention walking a tightrope between discussions of indoor plans to make with Jisung and the sensation of Hyunjin’s eyes tracing his profile. Jeongin didn’t think he’d ever been quite so aware of another person; he could feel Hyunjin’s every shift as though the two of them were tied together with puppet-strings.

"I think our new friend is tired," Felix teased eventually. There was no malice in it, and Jeongin found himself smiling a little when Chan ruffled his hair as though they’d known each other for years.

"Sorry, Jeongin," he said. "I forgot you spent most of your day travelling, right? You should go get some sleep. Hyunjin, don’t stay up late reading and keep him awake."

Hyunjin acknowledged him with a mock salute, reaching down to tug on Jeongin’s arm. "Come on. Let’s go sleep."

"Ok," Jeongin mumbled in reply. "Night, guys. It was good to meet you."

A chorus of good natured replies followed him out of the room as Hyunjin pulled him up the little staircase into their room, turning on the light and sitting down on his bed amidst the piles of books as the door swung softly shut.

"And now," he said, resting his chin on his hand, "we can get to know each other a little." Despite the intensity of his gaze, Jeongin could find nothing particularly unsettling about it; just an overwhelming friendliness, an interest that no one had necessarily displayed in Jeongin before. Hyunjin just seemed to want to… understand him. It left him a little lost for words.

"Cat got your tongue?" Hyunjin teased. "It’s ok. New people are scary. Come on, I know what’ll help." He leaned over, swinging his head and arms under his bed and emerging with a dark glass bottle held tightly in one hand. He waved it at Jeongin, smiling broadly. "Come on. One question per drink."

Jeongin blinked at him. "I… I don’t really drink," he said slowly. "Well. I haven’t. Not like that."

"Do you want to?" Hyunjin asked, and Jeongin was stunned into silence yet again. It had been a long time since anyone asked him whether he  _ wanted _ to do something. He either did things for his education, or because his mother asked, or because his father told him it was good for him. Now that Jeongin thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something just because he wanted to.

"Ok," he said, hoping he sounded a little braver than he felt. He’d never drunk to excess, especially not drinking straight out the bottle with a boy he barely knew, but he supposed that there had to be a first time for everything. "Sure."

Hyunjin grinned, brushing some books aside and patting his duvet. Jeongin sat beside him, keeping a little segment of distance between them which Hyunjin quickly closed, leaning into Jeongin’s space to examine the thin gold chain strung around his neck. He tugged on gently, long fingers slipping beneath Jeongin’s collar as he pulled the pendant free of his shirt.

"A locket, huh?" he asked. "Romantic." He unscrewed the lid of the wine bottle, raising it in a toast before he took a drink from it. "First question," he said once he’d swallowed. "Who’s in it?"

"A friend," Jeongin replied haltingly. "She gave it to me before I left. So I would keep thinking of her." He’d known Haewon since they were children, finding solace in each other’s company at boring dinners or gatherings. It had been kind of her to give him the locket, and Jeongin had felt a little guilty that he had no gift to offer her in return.

"But she’s just a friend?" Hyunjin asked. Jeongin nodded, and he laughed. "You’re not quite getting the hang of this game. I should have had to drink to get you to answer that." He winked. "But since I’m nice, I’ll do it anyway." He passed Jeongin the bottle once he was done, leaning back on his hands and watching. "Drink, and ask away."

Hesitantly, Jeongin took a sip from the bottle. It wasn’t nearly as much as Hyunjin had taken, the flavour strange on his tongue, but the older boy didn’t chastise him for it, simply waiting for a question Jeongin hadn’t formed yet.

"Which is your favourite?" he asked eventually, gesturing to the books littered across Hyunjin’s bed. Hyunjin laughed, eyes shining and head tilted back.

"Too difficult. I can’t pick."

"Just pick one you like a lot, then," Jeongin suggested, and Hyunjin smiled at him with that same curious intensity again.

"Fine," he said. He leaned over, pushing Jeongin back against the pillow a little as he reached for a particular book, breath against his neck for the barest moment until he pulled away, pressing the book he’d chosen against Jeongin’s chest. "This one."

Jeongin held the book up, reading the title embossed in black ink against the blue leather. "The Picture of Dorian Gray," he read aloud. "What’s it about?"

"That’s another question," Hyunjin pointed out, and Jeongin obediently lifted the wine bottle to his lips again. "It’s about a painting," Hyunjin told him. "And the tarnishing of a soul."

"It sounds interesting," Jeongin said politely. He wasn’t entirely sure if it appealed, if he was honest.

Hyunjin laughed. "It is. You’re a little like the main character, I think."

"Am I?" Jeongin asked, taking another, bolder, sip of wine before Hyunjin could tell him to.

"You are," Hyunjin said softly, expression turning thoughtful. His eyes really were intense, Jeongin noted again, in an honest, unshielded way. "Pretty," he clarified, voice still soft, barely carrying through the air between them. "Naïve."

Jeongin had no idea what to say to that. He passed the bottle back in lieu of a reply, fingers brushing Hyunjin’s as he handed it over. "Your turn to ask a question," he said nervously, and Hyunjin smiled before he drank.

"If she’s just your friend," he began, "why does she want you to keep thinking of her?"   


It took Jeongin a moment to remember who they were talking about. "I suppose our mothers have been pushing us together since we were kids," he admitted. "I think they think it would be a good match."

"An arranged marriage, in this day and age," Hyunjin said dramatically, and Jeongin couldn’t help but laugh. "Do you think there’s anything real there?" Hyunjin asked, taking another long sip from the bottle.

Jeongin shifted a little uncomfortably. It wasn’t something he’d really thought about. "We’re good friends," he replied, and Hyunjin tilted his head, smiling a little sadly.

"So, no," he said gently. "There’s nothing there."

"Was that a question?" Jeongin asked weakly, and Hyunjin just looked at him for a long moment.

"That depends on whether you really want to answer me," he said, and the sincerity of his words caught Jeongin off guard a little.

"I think I want to go to sleep now," he said eventually, dropping his gaze from Hyunjin’s. "Can you show me where the bathroom is, please?"

"Sure," Hyunjin said, screwing the cap back onto the wine bottle and stowing it away under his bed again. "Grab your toothbrush and stuff."

Lying in his bed ten minutes later while Hyunjin got ready for bed, Jeongin thought about his question. He’d never particularly thought about whether he actually _wanted_ to marry Haewon. It had just been something that had been subtly mentioned enough times over dinner, or by the fire, that they had both accepted it would likely happen. Childhood sweethearts, people would call them. It wouldn’t be true.

Because there really wasn’t anything there, Jeongin realised. They were friends. Nothing more. He reached for the locket, warmed from prolonged contact with his skin. Nothing more on his end, at least.

Hyunjin emerged from the bathroom then in a t-shirt and boxers, carefully stacking his books on the floor beside his bed so that he could actually climb under his covers without kicking them. Jeongin waited as he did so, unsure if he should say anything.

"Sweet dreams," Hyunjin half-sang as he reached to turn off the light.

"You, too," Jeongin murmured awkwardly into the dark, and he thought he heard Hyunjin laugh just a little.

The combination of a long day and unexpected alcohol quickly counteracted the sensation of a new bed, and Jeongin felt himself drifting to sleep a good deal faster than usual. The last thing he noticed with any level of coherency was a faint increase in the luminescence of the room, emanating from Hyunjin’s bed. He was reading under the covers, Jeongin realised distantly as sleep took hold of him in earnest, but to his tired mind, it looked as though the other boy were shining.

* * *

Jeongin was nursing a very slight headache when Felix wandered into their room the next morning, offering to show him where to get breakfast.

"I can do that," Hyunjin protested, and Felix snorted.

"You’d bring him down so late there’d be no food left. Come on, Jeongin. You don’t have to get dressed properly, just make sure you’re half decent. Pyjamas are fine as long as they cover everything."

Hyunjin collapsed back onto his pillow as they left, and Jeongin got the impression he wouldn’t move for some time. So much for his plan to take Jeongin out to explore early.

"Did you sleep well?" Felix asked.

"Yeah, I did," Jeongin said honestly. He didn’t mention the wine.

"Good! Classes don’t start for another week or so once everyone’s arrived, but it’s good to make sure you’re well rested anyway." He stood up on tiptoes at the top of the stairs, apparently trying to spot someone. "I told Changbin to wait for us."

"I think- is he over there?" Jeongin pointed, watching Felix lean over the bannister until he could see.

"You’re right! That extra height comes in handy, huh?" he asked brightly, and Jeongin barely had time to shrug awkwardly before Felix was clattering down the stairs to meet his boyfriend, dragging Jeongin behind him.

Chan didn’t show up for breakfast; Hyunjin had mentioned a beau, he remembered, and Jeongin nervously asked Felix if Chan would be gone all day.

"Oh, yeah," Changbin answered for him. "He has a boyfriend who goes to the local polytechnic. Chan sneaks out and they go on dates."

"And stay in motels," Felix added in a stage-whisper, and Changbin laughed at Jeongin’s expression of barely-suppressed shock.

"There was a whole drama about it in his first year, apparently," Changbin continued. "They couldn’t see each other for a bit because the school was pretty damn homophobic back then. I think he was the first person to actually come out here, ever."

"And then we came along," Felix pointed out, and Changbin smiled at him with a fondness that made Jeongin ache a little.

Seungmin wandered over to their table a moment later, arms full of food wrapped up in napkins.

"That for Jisung?" Felix asked.

Seungmin nodded. "They don’t give him food he likes in the infirmary," he complained. "They don’t seem to get how important it is." He sighed. "I might see you guys later. There’s a meteor shower tonight and he’s determined to go outside and watch it. Come join." He turned to Jeongin. "You, too. He keeps complaining that he can’t get to know you by hanging around the dorm."

"Sure," Jeongin agreed quietly, and Seungmin smiled, apparently silently approving of the fact that Jeongin was willing to engage with Jisung.

"Your new roommate not awake yet?" he asked.

"Oh, he’s awake," Felix replied. "Just lounging."

"Sounds like Hyunjin."

"I think he stayed up pretty late reading," Jeongin explained, and Seungmin rolled his eyes.

"He  _ always _ stays up reading. In the same way Chan always skips English to go research early anatomical experiments, and these two sneak down to the art studio on Friday nights." Felix choked on his toast, and Changbin slapped his back repeatedly, glaring at Seungmin. "What?" Seungmin asked. "I’m not telling you off. I’m just letting Jeongin know that everyone has their routines." He held up his armful of food. "I need to take this to Jisung before they try to make him eat porridge. I’ll see you guys later."

"What’s in the art studio?" Jeongin asked as Seungmin wandered away, attracting a few strange looks from other students.

"Privacy," Changbin explained gently.

"And art supplies to steal," Felix added, grinning brightly. "There’s nowhere around here to get my own clay, so." He shrugged, and Jeongin nodded awkwardly.

"We’ll take you down there sometime," Changbin promised. "Felix has a lot of sculptures on the go, so we’ve always got an excuse to be there. It’s by a darkroom in the basement for developing photographs, which is pretty cool. Seungmin’s pretty big on that."

"He does photography?" Jeongin asked.

Felix nodded. "When he’s calm. Which means not until Jisung gets a little better."

As before, Jeongin didn’t ask about Jisung. He was beginning to expect that his illness ran deeper than a simple winter cold, and he didn’t know these people well enough to be curious about such private things.

A hand landed on his shoulder unexpectedly, and Jeongin jumped a little until Hyunjin ducked into his peripheral view, smiling.

"Wow," Felix remarked. "This is early for you."

Hyunjin gave a lopsided shrug that somehow managed to look elegant, slumping down into the chair next to Jeongin’s. "I have a roommate to get to know. I couldn’t leave him by himself all day."

"He’s not by himself," Changbin pointed out. "He’s with us."

"And how long until you two start flirting?" Hyunjin asked. "You get sappy if left unsupervised."

Changbin blushed a little, and Felix laughed. Jeongin smiled just a little, unsure if he could make jokes at his new friends’ expense just yet.

"So, what do you say, Jeongin?" Hyunjin asked. "Up for a tour of the grounds?"

"Sure," Jeongin agreed politely. He wasn’t sure whether it was the right answer, but Hyunjin grinned, and the others didn’t look particularly upset, so he couldn’t have gone too far wrong.

"Let’s go, then," Hyunjin said brightly, taking his hand and tugging him away from the table. "You’ll want to get dressed, it’s a little cold for pyjamas." Changbin and Felix waved as the two of them left; Jeongin got the impression they’d long since stopped being surprised by anything Hyunjin did.

Once they were both dressed in their dark tweed uniforms, Hyunjin’s eyes lingering a little on Jeongin as he pulled on his jacket, they headed out. Hyunjin’s pockets were stuffed with pencils and miniature novels and one ring-bound sketchbook, and Jeongin wondered briefly if everyone at this school was as eclectic as his dorm seemed to be. Chan had implied that they were all a little different from the others, so perhaps not.

Jeongin wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

"Come on," Hyunjin called, running ahead a little. "You get a good view up this hill."

Jeongin hadn’t particularly noticed the hill behind the school before; perhaps because it was so far away, preceded by little rises and dips in the lawns before the land started to rise in earnest, grass fading away to a slightly rocky path. It looked as though Hyunjin had walked it a thousand times before, footing sure and steady as Jeongin tripped and stumbled. Already standing atop the flat rock that seemed to mark the peak, Hyunjin offered him a hand as he reached the final incline, and Jeongin took it; Hyunjin pulled gently, tugging Jeongin up the last stretch and close against him.

"There," he said gently, hand resting lightly on Jeongin’s back. "You made it."

"Thanks," Jeongin said, voice coming out a little quieter than he’d like as he stood in Hyunjin’s arms. He wasn’t quite sure why.

Hyunjin shifted away slightly, smiling. "Sit down. I’ll point some stuff out to you."

Sitting side by side on the grass at the top of the hill, Jeongin listened as Hyunjin explained the layout of the school; he pointed out things that weren’t exactly official parts of the geography, and Jeongin was more than a little grateful.

"The idiots hang around there. Don’t go near it, they’ll probably punch you."   
"The woods are nice in winter because no one’s there, but Seungmin sometimes uses trees as target practice. If you hear gunshots, steer clear."   
"Don’t go too close to the wall. The staff get suspicious if too many people gather around there, and we’re trying to keep it a secret zone so Chan can sneak out and visit his boyfriend."

After a while, he appeared to run out of things to say, settling into silence as Jeongin looked over the grounds. They truly were beautiful, the gothic architecture of the school settling well into the sweeping lawns, the lake a dark mirror in the slightly wintry sunlight.

He turned slightly, meaning to examine the expanse of the woods in more detail, and Hyunjin made a slightly wounded sound. " Stay still," he ordered, and Jeongin turned back to face him in confusion. Hyunjin sighed. "I’m trying to draw you. Face the way you were facing before."

Jeongin shifted, trying to remember which way he had been facing. "Why are you drawing me?" he asked, and Hyunjin laughed.

"I told you last night," he said teasingly. "You’re pretty."

"Oh," Jeongin responded awkwardly.

"You’re not brilliant with compliments, are you?" Hyunjin asked, and Jeongin thought about it for a moment. Back home, he was rarely explicitly praised. His mother would occasionally pat his cheek, telling him  _ you are good, aren’t you? _ if he brought her an iced tea in the summer; his father would introduce him to his friends with the words  _ my son; potential to be just like me, I think! _ and the other men would laugh, quickly forgetting he was there. People didn’t often give him kind words unprompted, let alone call him  _ pretty _ .

He settled for a shrug, and Hyunjin laughed. "Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we? Because I mean it. You’re really very pretty indeed." Jeongin felt himself blush, and Hyunjin laughed again, softer, more secret. "Our pretty Dorian," he said quietly, and it took Jeongin a moment to remember the book they’d discussed the night before. Even understanding the reference, he didn’t have the faintest idea of how to respond.

They spent most of the morning up there; Hyunjin grew more talkative once he’d finished a few sketches, apparently happy with them, and Jeongin grew bolder with his questions as he settled into Hyunjin’s company.

"Chan said you spend a lot of time in the tower," he remarked, listening to the scratch of Hyunjin’s pencil blend with the breeze. "What’s up there?"

"A good view," Hyunjin replied slowly. "And just… an atmosphere I like, I suppose." He glanced up in Jeongin’s periphery, grinning. "I’ll take you up there sometime. I think we should be better friends first, though."

"Ok," Jeongin agreed. He liked that idea, he decided in a tentative way. Being better friends with Hyunjin. "Will you be watching the meteor shower tonight?" he asked. That was how to make friends, he thought. Go to things together.

"Of course," Hyunjin said. "Jisung would get upset if we didn’t turn up. The only one who has a free absence pass is Chan."

"Because he’s with his boyfriend?"

"Yeah. He can’t sneak out as often as he’d like, so everyone’s a little lenient if he disappears when important stuff is happening."

"Fair enough."

Hyunjin folded his sketchbook shut soon after, standing up and offering Jeongin his hand again. "Come on. Lunch will be happening soon, and I already missed breakfast."

Jeongin let Hyunjin pull him to his feet, noting with surprise that he was actually quite hungry. "I didn’t think we’d been out here that long."

Hyunjin smiled, eyes disappearing into crescents. "What can I say? I’m good company. Let’s hurry, we might catch the others."

* * *

They ended up gathering in the infirmary for lunch; Seungmin had found them, already towing Felix and Changbin behind him, each with food wrapped in napkins and stuffed in their pockets.

"Grab something to eat and meet us by Jisung’s bed," he ordered. "We need to make plans for later."

"Sounds good," Hyunjin said, and Jeongin just nodded mutely.

A good few members of staff glared at the two of them as they left the dining hall, Jeongin’s pockets and Hyunjin’s hands full of food, and Jeongin wondered if they were technically allowed to do this. But no one actively stopped them, and Hyunjin seemed unconcerned, so Jeongin simply followed his lead. Although, if he was honest, Hyunjin seemed unconcerned by most things.

Jisung looked brighter than he had before when he and Hyunjin arrived; surrounded by friends, he was waving his hands in the air as he babbled excitedly about the meteor shower, Seungmin occasionally pointing to the food laid out before him so he wouldn’t forget about it.

"Hey," Hyunjin said casually, sitting down on the neighbouring bed. "I brought you like, nine of those biscuits you like."

Jisung grinned. "Seungmin got me some too, but thanks. I’ll bring them out as a snack later. Hi, Jeongin."

"Hi," Jeongin responded, sitting down slowly when Hyunjin patted the space next to him on the bed.

"These guys haven’t scared you too much, right?" Jisung asked him, smiling softly, and Jeongin shook his head.

"No, they’re- they’re nice," he said, and Jisung sighed.

"Guys, he’s terrified. You all need to stop being so weird." Jisung reached out a hand, and Hyunjin nudged Jeongin to take it. "Once I’m out of here, I’ll keep them in check," he promised. "I swear I’m saner than the rest of them." Felix snorted, and Seungmin shot him a good-natured glare.

They passed the rest of the afternoon that way, chatting happily amongst themselves; Jeongin even managed to join in a little, making Jisung laugh so hard that Seungmin had to stop him from rolling out of bed. Hyunjin was tactile the whole time, hand resting on Jeongin’s knee or gently twisting his hair, but Jeongin found that he didn’t mind it. He was starting to suspect that that was just the way Hyunjin was; although, he admitted to himself, he hadn’t seen Hyunjin act that way with anyone else.

"Right," Changbin said as the evening started to darken in earnest, the grounds swathed in dusk beyond the faint pool of luminescence from the school. "Blankets. Felix, Hyunjin, let’s go."

The three of them disappeared, Hyunjin trailing a hand over Jeongin’s shoulder as he left, and Jisung smiled.

"You’re getting on with your new roommate ok, then?" he asked. "Hyunjin can be a bit much, but he’s good at heart."

"Yeah, we’re- we’re getting on fine," Jeongin said softly.  _ He called me pretty,  _ he didn’t say.  _ He gave me wine and we drank from the same bottle. _ "He’s nice."

"Just remember you’re allowed to yell at him for staying up late and stopping you sleeping, yeah?" Seungmin pointed out. Jeongin nodded, and he smiled. These two seemed to want to take care of him a little more than the others, Jeongin thought, and he wasn’t particularly opposed to it. It was nice. To be cared for.

Changbin and the others soon returned, arms laden with blankets, and Jisung’s face lit up. "We’re ready, then?" he asked. Changbin nodded. "Ok. It’s a good clear night, so we should be able to see a lot of stars. We can head up the hill."

"Jisung…" Seungmin said carefully, and Jisung’s smile died a little.

"Ok," he said quietly. "Maybe that’s a little ambitious. We’ll just go out on the lawn. But I think we’ll still get a good view!" He brightened again as Seungmin leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Have we got enough blankets for everyone?"

Felix shrugged. "You’ve got two, Seungmin has his own, and the rest of us are in pairs."

Seungmin crouched down, pulling a heavy-looking bag from beneath the bed. "I got kindling, too."

"What is it?" Hyunjin asked warily, and Jeongin got the impression that this wasn’t the first time Seungmin had lit a fire out of something he shouldn’t.

"Keats," Seungmin said casually, and Hyunjin let out a sound similar to that of a wounded animal.

"You can’t- you can’t burn  _ Keats _ , Seungmin, he’s a classic, he-"

"He was an incel," Seungmin finished bluntly, and Hyunjin fell silent. "I know. I was disappointed too."

"Ok," Hyunjin said, tone saturated with all the misery of a mourner at a funeral. "I trust that you’re right. You can burn Keats to keep Jisung warm."

"I was going to do it anyway, but thanks for the permission," Seungmin replied, and Jeongin laughed a little before he could hold it back. The others smiled before he could feel awkward, and Jeongin thought for the first time that he might really  _ fit _ here.

It didn’t take them long to get set up to watch the meteor shower. Changbin handed out blankets, Seungmin carefully tucking two around Jisung’s shoulders before beginning to tear pages out of the books he’d brought with him. Hyunjin watched for a moment, expression one of noble suffering, before he sighed and grabbed Jeongin by the hand.

"Come on," he said a little sadly. "Let’s get a blanket." He pulled Jeongin over to where the remaining blanket lay abandoned on the lawn; Seungmin had thrown his down on the grass in favour of making a fire, and Changbin and Felix were already wrapped up in theirs. Hyunjin grabbed the last one, tugging Jeongin down onto the grass with him and throwing it over both their shoulders like a cloak.

"Shuffle a bit closer," he suggested. "We’ll be cozier that way." Jeongin did as he suggested, moving little by little until they were hip to hip, the blanket comfortably wrapping around both of them. "There," Hyunjin said happily. "We’ll stay warm now."

"Tell us about the meteors, Jisung," Changbin called before Jeongin could reply. "I want to know exactly what we’re looking at."

"Ok!" Jisung said brightly. "Most people think meteors are something that fly past the earth, but that’s not it. We  _ actually _ see them because the Earth is orbiting through the trail of a comet."

Jeongin listened happily as Jisung continued to explain about the meteors; he sounded truly enthusiastic as he rambled on about the comet leaving chips of dust and ice in its wake, particles interacting with dust and ions in the atmosphere and creating light.

"He really loves this stuff, doesn’t he?" he murmured to Hyunjin as the physics lesson lapsed into conversation, Felix and Jisung excitedly plotting to paint a star chart on one of the walls of the art studio.

"Yeah," Hyunjin said quietly. "It’s something he really enjoys. Not something his family really approve of, of course." He sounded a little more than a little bitter, and Jeongin wondered just how much of Jisung’s life his family didn’t approve of.

"But he can enjoy it while he’s here?" Jeongin asked, and Hyunjin turned to face him, smiling a little. They were close enough beneath the blanket that Jeongin could make out the more delicate of his features; the faintest of dimples in his cheek as he smiled; the mole beneath his eye, barely visible in the dim light. Jeongin wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that someone so obviously lovely as Hyunjin would call  _ him _ pretty.

"Yeah," Hyunjin agreed softly. "He can." He turned away, sighing a little. "This place is an escape for most of us, I think."

Jeongin didn’t have time to ask what he meant. "There!" he heard Seungmin cry out. "I saw one!"

Each of them turned their faces to the stars, watching in a silence charged with anticipation. If felt as if they were willing the shooting stars to appear, trying to set the meteors alight through merely wishing it.

And there one was- passing across the south, a bright spear of light. "There! Down towards the lake," Jeongin shouted, pointing in the hopes that the others would see it.

"Got it!" Jisung said excitedly. "Look, there are two more!" Jeongin watched as a few, brighter streaks crossed the sky, just above the first. "Those two are probably bigger particles, maybe up to the size of a marble," Jisung explained. "That’s why they’re brighter."

Jeongin nodded slightly until he realised that Jisung most likely couldn’t see him, hidden by the cover of darkness and the blanket.

"I’m glad it’s clear tonight," Hyunjin called, loud enough that it was clear that he was speaking to everyone.

"We don’t get much light pollution here," Seungmin pointed out. "Nice and far from the city." Jeongin stared up at the sky, focusing on more than just searching for meteors for a moment. He hadn’t noticed the stars before, but now he had realised they were there, he wasn’t sure how he’d missed them; they were so much brighter than they were back home, filling the sky in their multitudes, running in little streams and whorls of light. Every time he thought he’d found an empty space his eyes adjusted, finding faint pinpricks of light within it.

"Jisung," he called softly. "Can you tell me about all the stars sometime?"

He heard someone laugh, but he found he didn’t mind. "Maybe not all of them," Jisung replied, warmth saturating his tone and filling Jeongin’s head with the image of his smile. "But some of them. I’d be happy to come out here with you another night."

"Thank you," Jeongin said vaguely, still focused on the sheer  _ number _ of stars. It was like a totally different sky, he thought. Like he’d gone further than just into the countryside; like he’d travelled to another planet altogether.

_ This place is an escape for most of us, I think _ , Hyunjin had said. And Jeongin thought in that moment, listening to the others call out meteors in a sky overflowing with stars, that he understood.


	2. shakespeare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Minho is partially based off an old chemistry teacher of mine who had a long Russian name, a thick Geordie accent, was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and kept bulldog clips pinned in her hair, and in which Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin engage in incredibly unsafe behaviour that should under no circumstances be imitated.
> 
> TW for descriptions of child abuse, and a more in-depth discussion of Jisung's eating disorder.
> 
> Next update Monday <3

Jeongin’s lessons started a week later. He went to most of them, enduring the hardships of abstract mathematics for the sake of philosophy and music; he took up the violin again, an old hobby from his youth, only just realising how much he missed it. It had been a physical ache that he’d spent years ignoring after his mother had complained that his practicing had been too loud, too often, and his instrument had been discreetly removed. He’d never thought he’d play again, and the first notes he’d pulled from one of the dusty school violins as he’d tuned it had felt like coming to life; a rose of Jericho, roots finally tasting water.

Sometimes, the others would approach him in the corridors, pulling him away before his lessons began. Jisung would often take him to the library, begging to be quizzed on the astronomical systems of Aryabhata and the motions of the stars; Felix would leap onto his back from behind, promising him that he’d have more fun if he let Felix teach him to sculpt figures than he would learning biochemistry.

And Hyunjin; Hyunjin would take his hand in the corridors, tugging him away without a word, only asking him to sit for yet another sketch once they were in a silent part of the school, fingers laced together until he had to pull away to hold his sketchbook. He made Jeongin sit for hours, reading or doing homework or simply staring out at the night descending over the lake as he etched image after image of him onto the pages.

Jeongin caught the barest glimpse of one, once; it was filled with endless studies of his features, dissected into parts as if Hyunjin planned to build him anew- his eyes up in the corner, the angle of his jaw down to the right, sketches of various quality and precision of his mouth on the left hand side. The word  _ dorian _ at the top of each page in messy academic scrawl.

He had closed the book before Jeongin could see anything more.

Today’s interruption to his lessons was Chan; the head boy had been waiting for him outside his classroom, responding to Jeongin’s wave with a slightly lopsided smile.

"Come with me for a mo?" he asked, and Jeongin nodded, following him to the stone steps at the front of the school. Chan sat down, squinting a little into the October sun as Jeongin sat down beside him.

"How are you getting on?" Chan asked vaguely, and for a moment, Jeongin didn’t quite know what to say.

"Pretty well," Jeongin said hesitantly. "I like it here."

"Good. Feel like you’re fitting into the dorm ok? Making friends?"

"I- I think so," Jeongin told him. "I like the dorm a lot." Did Chan not think he was fitting in? Was that what this was about?

But Chan just turned and smiled at him, warm and reassuring. Jeongin hadn’t known Chan could smile like that. He seemed something of an enigma at times, serious and cryptic and gone more often than not, but perhaps Jeongin could begin to see what the others did in him.

"We like you a lot, too," he said, and Jeongin’s heart warmed in his chest a little. "Jisung said you were pretty enthusiastic about the meteor shower. You into astronomy?"

"Not really," Jeongin admitted. "I don’t know much about it. Jisung seems to love it, though."

"He does. Always says he’d study it at uni if he went." Chan leaned back on his hands. "It would be biology for me, I think. Literature for Hyunjin, most likely. Classics or art for Felix, ancient languages for Changbin. Maybe photography for Seungmin, or politics." He glanced up, staring at Jeongin curiously. "What about you? What would you study if you weren’t here?"

"I- I don’t know," Jeongin said after a moment. "I never thought about it. I always knew I’d come here."

"Are there any classes that pique your interest?" Chan prompted. "Something you look forward to?"

"I- philosophy, maybe? But maybe not. I don’t know."

Chan gave him a long, searching look, barely blinking. It made Jeongin squirm a little beneath the steadiness of it, feeling as though he were being turned to stone. "You don’t know much about yourself, do you?" Chan asked eventually, and Jeongin felt a blush rise up his cheeks. "It’s not a criticism. Just an observation." He turned away, looking out over the grounds again. Changbin and Felix were down by the lake, Jeongin thought, one of them pacing up and down the pier while the other watched. "This place might help. With figuring yourself out, I mean. Changbin was pretty much a blank slate when he arrived, too. All he really knew about himself was that he loved Felix."

"Oh," Jeongin said. He didn’t know what else he could say.

Chan laid a hand on his shoulder. "If you like it here, that’s enough. Focus on what you enjoy. Spend time with people you like. That’ll whittle down what’s important pretty fast." He winked. "And don’t go to too many lessons. Treat it like university. Skip as many lectures as you can realistically get away with."

Jeongin couldn’t help but laugh at that. "Ok," he promised. "I will."

"Good," Chan said warmly. "Come on. If we sneak into the dining hall now we can nab some food while the staff are still setting up."

He got to his feet, waiting for Jeongin to follow, and together they headed back through the great door and out of the cold.

* * *

Jeongin spent a good deal of the evening thinking about what Chan had asked him. What  _ did _ he know about himself? What was he, beyond his parents and their money and the girl he was probably going to marry?

He liked the violin, he decided. He was good at it. That was something he knew about himself. But that was one detail among the hundreds he thought he should have; a single ripple in a lake he’d never explored the depths of. It unsettled him. Maybe there was nothing  _ to _ know about himself, he thought with dawning horror. Maybe this was all he’d ever be.

He was still deep in thought when Felix arrived in the atrium, hands messy with drying clay.

"Hey," he called over, jolting Jeongin back into the room. "You ok?"

Jeongin hesitated, wondering exactly how much to say. "Can I… Can I ask you something?"

Felix nodded, throwing himself down on the sofa next to him. There was a smudge of clay by his eyebrow, Jeongin noticed, smearing out towards his temple and crumbling a little at the edges as it dried. "Fire away," Felix prompted, and Jeongin looked down at his hands.

"How… How much do you know about yourself?" he asked, words hesitant at first, trickling down before they rushed into a stumbled flood, the end of the question coming out so fast that Jeongin wondered if Felix had heard it.   


But Felix just blinked a few times, giving no sign that he needed Jeongin to repeat himself. "I know enough," he replied slowly. "I know what I like, and what I don’t. I know  _ who _ I like, and who I love." He paused. "I know that in a few years, some of those things might not be the same. That I’m going to be a lot of different people from here on out. Why do you ask?"

Jeongin sighed, avoiding Felix’s eyes. "I’m just not sure I know who I am, really. And I don’t like that."

"Well, who do you want to be?"

"I- I don’t know."

Felix smiled, placing a hand on Jeongin’s knee. "I think that’s step one. Decide who you want to be. It doesn’t have to be all at once. But one thing at a time, you know? If you want to be - I don’t know - the guy who’s good at archery, then start practising archery. If you want to start dressing a certain way, then do it. Find little things you want to be, and then be them."

"What if I change my mind?"

"Then you go be something else," Felix said gently. "There’s no limit. I meant it when I said I think I’m going to be a lot of different people. We all change. And that’s ok. You’ve just got to be true to your changes. Don’t hold yourself back." Without warning, he leaned over, wrapping Jeongin up in a hug. "You need any more help figuring it out, you can absolutely ask me, ok?"

"Ok. Thanks, Felix."

"No problem," Felix said, pulling away and getting to his feet. "I’m going for a shower. Clay." He wandered over to his and Seungmin’s shared room, pausing by the door. "And Jeongin?"

"Yeah?"

"Even if you don’t really know who you are, you’re someone we’re all starting to care about a lot. You know that, right?"

Jeongin felt himself flush, unable to hold back a shy smile. "Thanks."

"No worries. Oh, and I think I got clay dust all over your jacket. Sorry." He disappeared before Jeongin could even check to see if he was right, bedroom door clicking softly shut behind him.

Jeongin sat quietly for a moment, listening to the faint hiss of the shower and the hum of the pipes as they rattled in the walls. Decide who you want to be, Felix had said. This place might help, Chan had told him.

He hoped it would. Because the more he thought about it, the more Jeongin realised he didn’t quite like not knowing who he was.   


He sighed, heading to his room. Hyunjin wasn’t there, which meant he would have to stay up until he arrived, but Jeongin was getting used to that.

And if nothing else, the solitude would give him a little more time to think.

* * *

The next person to drag him away from a lesson was Hyunjin; Jeongin felt a hand take his as he headed to the chemistry labs the next day, pulling him gently away from the flow of dark uniforms and in the direction of the library.

"I need you to help me study," he told Jeongin as he tugged him through the corridors, palm warm against Jeongin’s own.

"What are you studying for? Isn’t it a little early in the year for exams?" Jeongin asked nervously. He had known there would be exams at some point, of course, but this just seemed far too  _ soon . _

"Oh, absolutely," Hyunjin agreed. "I’m not studying for exams, I’m studying because I want to."

"Oh," Jeongin said. He wasn’t quite sure he understood. "What are you studying?"

Hyunjin turned as they passed through the door to the library, flashing Jeongin a brilliant smile. "Poetry," he whispered, and he had led Jeongin to one of the long tables between the shelves before he could respond. A pile of books already rested there, tall enough that Jeongin worried they would fall at even the slightest disturbance. He leaned over, reading the titles in the clouded light that streamed in through windows that stretched almost from floor to ceiling. It was raining outside, the sound of it a steady hiss against the roof, and droplets ran down the glass like falling crystals.

"Why are you studying so much poetry?" Jeongin asked softly. There weren’t many other students in the library, and the rain masked his voice almost entirely, but he decided it was still polite to be quiet.

"Because it’s lovely," Hyunjin replied. "Have you read much?"

"No," Jeongin admitted. Hyunjin’s eyes widened, and he reached for Jeongin’s hand again across the table.

"Well, now’s your chance!" he said excitedly. "Poetry is the best record of the human experience, Dorian. Forget history books, or paintings, it’s  _ poetry _ that tells you everything you need to know."

"Really?" Jeongin asked. He didn’t understand what Hyunjin meant, but he sort of didn’t want him to stop talking; he’d never seen anyone this enthusiastic about anything before, never seen anyone light up so much when they spoke. Hyunjin was just so  _ a nimated ,  _ gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke, the volume of his voice rising before he realised he ought to control it and it fell again.

"Yes! There’s nothing like it. It doesn’t just tell you what happened, it doesn’t just capture a moment, it- it magnifies it. Untangles it. Takes a feeling, or a person, or a day, and lays it bare. Unfolds it like a flower."

"Do you really think so?" Jeongin asked softly. Hyunjin nodded, eyes bright and almost feverish.

"I do. I think that poetry preserves a writer’s soul, Jeongin, it- it allows you to step into their skin. If you read it-  _ really _ read it- you can become them. Here. Let me show you." He took the stack of books apart, apparently searching for a particular volume. Jeongin got the briefest of glimpses of the cover before Hyunjin pushed the book towards him, flicking through to a certain page.  _ Shakespeare’s  Sonnets . _

"There," he said, pointing with a long finger to the page. "Read this one."

Feeling a little self conscious, Jeongin pulled the book closer, scanning the first few lines.

_ When I consider everything that grows,  
Holds in perfection but a little moment,  
That this huge stage presenteth nought… _

Jeongin frowned, struggling to understand. "I don’t- I don’t know how to read this," he admitted, flushing a little under Hyunjin’s gaze. "I’ve never read anything like this before."

"Ah," Hyunjin said, offering him an apologetic smile. "Of course you haven’t. Pass it here, it works better when read aloud anyway."

Pulling the book over to his side of the table, Hyunjin cleared his throat.

"When I consider everything that grows," he began, voice soft and clear as a bell against the rhythm of the rain, "Holds in perfection but a little moment, that this huge stage presenteth nought but shows whereon the stars in secret influence comment." His voice lifted a little, beginning to carry in the spaces between the shelves, emphasising the silence of the vast room until Jeongin thought that the books themselves might be straining to listen.

"When I perceive that men as plants increase, cheered and checked even by the selfsame sky," he read, words cutting clear and crystalline through the rain as his voice rose still louder. "Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, and wear their brave state out of memory." Jeongin watched, captivated, as he stood upon his chair, reading as though to a vast audience but speaking still to Jeongin alone, glancing up from the page to meet his eyes.

"Then the conceit of this inconstant stay sets you most rich in youth before my sight, where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, to change your day of youth-" Hyunjin rested one foot on the table despite Jeongin’s muffled protests at both the motion and the volume of his voice- "to sullied night." Apparently lost in his performance, Hyunjin pushed back his chair with his other foot, moving to stand fully on the table. "And all in war with Time for love of you," he cried, ignoring the approaching footsteps of the librarian. "As he takes from you, I engraft you new."

The librarian found them, then, eyes widening at the sight of Hyunjin on the table, book of sonnets held high, and Hyunjin barely missed a beat before he’d scrambled down, grabbing Jeongin by the hand and pulling him away at a run, laughing as he did so. The sound of it was infectious, along with the sheer absurdity of the situation, and Jeongin found himself laughing too as Hyunjin led him through the maze of corridors, eventually coming to a stop beneath a set of spiral stairs that led up to the music room. They rested there for a moment, trying to catch their breath, each of them unable to look at the other without bursting into laughter.

"There," Hyunjin said once his breath had slowed, pulse no longer racing against Jeongin’s fingertips. "Did you feel it, then?"

"I- maybe," Jeongin told him as Hyunjin’s thumb skimmed over the soft skin of his wrist. "What was it about? The poem, I mean."

"It’s about how beauty fades," Hyunjin explained thoughtfully. "But can be preserved in words like those. It’s part of a series of sonnets that Shakespeare wrote to a young man."

It took Jeongin a moment to process that information. "Shakespeare was gay?" he asked, perhaps a little too loudly for their quiet space, and Hyunjin giggled at the way he ducked his head as though it would withdraw the sound.

"Most likely bisexual," he said kindly. Releasing Jeongin’s hand, he passed him the book. "Read them. I can’t educate you with just one poem, can I?"

"Thanks," Jeongin murmured. "Won’t the library chase you up on it?"

"Maybe," Hyunjin said lightly. "Better read fast." He winked, and Jeongin couldn’t help but laugh. "Come on. We’ll be late for dinner if we hide here." Hyunjin waited for a moment as Jeongin tucked the book into his jacket pocket before reaching out. Jeongin took his hand without thinking, the contact familiar to him by now, and followed him out, away from the secret space they’d made there for a moment.

* * *

Jeongin stayed up late that night, waiting for Hyunjin to reappear from wherever he had vanished to after dinner. He had barely eaten anything before he slipped away, trailing a hand over Jeongin’s shoulder as he left, the others rolling their eyes.

"He needs to eat more," Seungmin had muttered, and Jisung, finally permitted to leave the infirmary, had patted his hand soothingly.

The book of sonnets still rested on Jeongin’s desk, dark green leather shining against the dark wood, the title embossed in black. Perhaps he should read some, he thought. He had told Hyunjin that he would, after all.

Swinging his legs out of bed, he reached over to grab the book, the weight of it a little unfamiliar in his hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t read; he did, had done so a great deal as a child, but never really anything like this. He wasn’t even sure how to go about reading poetry. Was he supposed to read them in order, finding a flow between distinct verses, or pick one at random?

Jeongin turned the book over in his hands, tracing the title with his fingertips. He’d start with the first sonnet, he decided, and skip ahead if he felt like it.

He was still reading at almost midnight; it had taken him a while to figure out how to read the somewhat archaic style with even a little of the fluidity that Hyunjin had, but once he had settled into the rhythm of the poems, he found himself enjoying them. Most of them he had to scan through more than once in order to understand them, sneakily searching some of the meanings on his phone. A good deal of the earlier ones seemed to have the same theme as the one Hyunjin had read, speaking of the beauty of a young man and how it might fade. Shakespeare must have loved him a great deal, Jeongin thought, to write so many verses for him.

He closed the book for a moment, considering what Hyunjin had told him. He had never quite considered that such a famous writer might be anything but conventional in his adorations; but here it was, detailed in repetitions of fourteen lines, each one so full of love that Jeongin didn’t quite know how anyone could miss it.  _ Shakespeare’s writings to a dear friend known as the Fair  Youth , _ a lot of the websites had called the first one hundred and twenty six sonnets. But Jeongin had been taught that sonnets were love poems, and the more he read them over, the more he became convinced of it. He wasn’t sure that  _ he _ could write of any friend so ardently, at least, and definitely not over one hundred times.

Hyunjin had read him sonnet fifteen, he realised as he skimmed through the book again. He read it over a few times, remembering the colour of Hyunjin’s voice as it rose above the rain, the way his embarrassment had faded at the sound of those final lines delivered from the table, Hyunjin’s eyes meeting his own. Hyunjin had such beautiful eyes, he thought vaguely, fine and dark and shining.

Perhaps he understood Shakespeare a little, he thought. To want to always look upon something so lovely, and fear the loss and decay of it. Not that Hyunjin was to him what the Fair Youth had been to Shakespeare; not the way Jeongin was reading it, anyway. But perhaps a dear friend. Perhaps Hyunjin could be that to him, at least.

He fell asleep long before Hyunjin arrived back, book still in hand, bedside lamp shining bright as the darkness outside the window grew deeper. But when he awoke, weak October sunshine burning through the clouds, the sonnets were laid on his desk again, his duvet drawn up around his shoulders and lamp switched off at the wall. Hyunjin made no mention of the incident before breakfast, simply reaching for Jeongin’s hand as he always did, and pulling him down the stairs to face the day.

_ Fair  Youth _ _,_ Jeongin thought to himself as he listened to Hyunjin’s voice hum on behind his own thoughts.  _ Dear friend. _

* * *

"Hey, Hyunjin," Seungmin asked over breakfast, adding more slices of peach to Chan’s plate when he wasn’t looking. "Got any bottles?"

"A couple," Hyunjin replied. "Target practice?"

"Yup."

"Give me a day and I’m sure I can generate a few more."

Seungmin snorted. "Don’t strain yourself," he muttered, and Hyunjin winked.

"Huh," Jeongin heard Chan mumble sleepily. "Peaches." Jisung held back a laugh, smiling across the table at Jeongin as though they had shared a secret, and Changbin patted Chan’s shoulder gently.

"Not a morning person, are you, Chan?" he asked, and Chan just hummed around a mouthful of peach slices in lieu of a response. "Hey, Jeongin?"

"Yeah?" Jeongin asked, holding his toast in midair.

"There’s an exhibition at the local gallery today. Felix figured we could show you around the town a little if you wanted? Since it’s a weekend, and we’re actually  _ allowed _ to leave the grounds." The comment seemed to pass completely over Chan’s head, and Jeongin laughed a little. "So, what do you say?"

Jeongin hesitated for a moment. "I have assignments," he said slowly, "but we won’t be all day, right?"

Changbin shook his head. "Nah, just a few hours. You’ll have time to work, I promise."

"Then sure," Jeongin agreed. "What’s the town like?"

"Tiny," Felix piped up. He looked just as sleepy as Chan, sitting with his head pillowed on Changbin’s shoulder. Jeongin had almost forgotten he was there. "But nice. Good ice cream."

Changbin laughed, holding himself as still as he could so as not to dislodge Felix. "Yeah," he agreed. "Good ice cream."

* * *

The day was unusually warm for October, Jeongin thought as the three of them headed down the drive to the school gates. There were a few other students doing the same, wandering away from the school in little crowds, enjoying the autumn sunshine in short sleeves and sunglasses.

"Do you think any of them are going to the exhibition?" Jeongin asked.

"Nah," Felix said, walking with his face tilted back to the sun and eyes closed, relying on Changbin to guide him. "I’ve never seen a single other student at one of these things. Just us."

"Yeah, they’re most likely just gonna wander around and act like idiots," Changbin sighed. "But don’t worry, the gallery will be quiet."

As he promised, there were only five people in the first room of the little local art gallery, hovering in front of the large display screens in near silence. Easily the youngest there by several decades aside from his friends, Jeongin immediately felt a little out of place, an elderly woman giving the three of them a stern look. Changbin smiled politely at her, pulling Jeongin over to a nearby screen.

"So, this exhibition," he began, perhaps a little louder than necessary, "is a collection of views of women in ancient Greek sculpture. Most of them are goddesses, of course- look, this one is a really famous rendition of Aphrodite."

"Goddess of love, right?" Jeongin asked, and Felix beamed.

"Yup!" he confirmed. "Did you know that these statues used to be painted in all sorts of colours?"

"Really?"

"Yeah," Changbin chimed in. "History’s a whitewash." The elderly woman sniffed, looking a little chastised by the fact that they seemed to be genuinely interested in the exhibition, and Felix smiled.

Slowly, Changbin and Felix led Jeongin around the room, explaining the significance of various sculptures as he navigated around them on the touch screens. "This is a pretty cool way to let people see art," he murmured as he panned around to the back of Athena, marvelling at the way the folds of her dress fell against her back as though the marble were drifting in the wind.

Felix nodded. "Takes the elitism out of it. A lot of people can’t afford to fly to Rome or wherever to see these sculptures in person, but this way, they can engage with art without having to do that. They do free Shakespeare plays in here, too. Hyunjin always makes us go."

"Oh," Jeongin said softly. "That could be fun." He missed the way Changbin and Felix glanced at each, eyebrows a little raised.

"Come on," Changbin said as Jeongin finished reading the description of the last sculpture. "We’ll buy you ice cream."

Jeongin made sure to drop a few notes into the donation box as he left, earning him a brilliant smile from the receptionist, and let himself be dragged away.

The ice cream, as promised, was excellent.

"It’s some local dairy," Felix said happily as the three of them wandered across the village green to sit on the grass and enjoy the unexpected sunshine. "Here, try some of the strawberry."

Jeongin obediently licked the cone that Felix pushed towards his face, offering his own in exchange. Felix wrinkled his nose, and Changbin laughed. "He hates lemon and ginger," he explained. "I’ll take you up on that, though."

"Hey, guys!" someone called from across the green, and Jeongin glanced up to see a boy he didn’t recognise, around their own age, running towards them. He was handsome, Jeongin noticed as he drew closer, with delicate features and shining eyes, and he appeared to have bulldog clips pinned in his hair.

"Hey, Minho," Felix said, waving vaguely. "You here to meet Chan?"

"For once, no. I had to be on campus to finish off a project, and I kind of felt like getting ice cream." He pointed at Jeongin. "Lemon and ginger, right? I like you."

Changbin laughed. "This is our new dormmate, Jeongin. Jeongin, this is Chan’s boyfriend, Minho."

Switching the cone to his left hand, Jeongin held out his right for Minho to shake. "Good to meet you," he said shyly, and Minho just grinned.

"You too! Who are you rooming with?"

"Hyunjin."

"Ah, nice. Give me a minute, I’ll get ice cream and come sit with you guys."

Minho spent the rest of the afternoon with them, complaining about his final year project and laughing at anecdotes from the dorms that the others shared. Eventually, it began to rain, the sun disappearing behind light drifts of cloud, and they parted ways.

"He seems nice," Jeongin said as they watched him run off towards the trees, retreating briefly as a clip fell from his hair and he stopped to retrieve it. "How did he meet Chan?"

Felix laughed. "Oh, that’s one hell of a story. Get Chan to tell it to you sometime. I’m pretty sure he’s weirdly proud of the shit that went down."

"Oh, he’s absolutely proud of it," Changbin agreed, and Jeongin was left feeling more curious than ever. How would someone like Chan, tossed from private school to private school his entire life, meet someone like Minho? Someone bright and loud and absolutely unlike anyone Jeongin had ever met in the circles they moved in? He’d ask Chan at some point, he decided. Give him the opportunity to tell the story.

* * *

It was raining in earnest by the time they returned to the school, sprinting up the driveway and the stairs, laughing as they did so. Jeongin said goodbye quickly, thanking them for taking him to see the exhibition, and shivered his way to the shower. The hot water was bliss against his skin, warming him through to his bones, and he wrapped himself up in his softest clothes once he was done, content to spend the rest of the day in bed with his assignments.

But Hyunjin was sitting on his bed when he emerged, a bottle of red wine in one hand and the book of sonnets in the other, and Jeongin decided that he may have to reassess his plans.

"Hi," he said softly, and Hyunjin glanced up, smiling.

"Hello, Dorian," he replied, and Jeongin felt himself blush just a little at the nickname. He still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. Hyunjin said nothing about the flush in his cheeks, presumably thinking it due to the heat of the shower. "How was your art gallery trip?" he asked.

"Good," Jeongin said a little awkwardly, sitting down on the end of his bed. "We bumped into Chan’s boyfriend."

"Oh? What did you think of him?"

"He seems nice. Does he always keep bulldog clips in his hair?"

Hyunjin snorted. "Not necessarily bulldog clips, but he’s always got  _ something _ up there. I’ve seen him with pencils tied into it before." Jeongin laughed, and Hyunjin tilted his head a little. "Why are you sitting over there? Come sit by me."

A little hesitantly, Jeongin crossed the room to Hyunjin’s bed, sitting down beside him. He didn’t quite know what to think of the fact that Hyunjin acted like this, always wanting him closer. "What did you do with your day?" he asked, and Hyunjin passed him the wine bottle.

"Seungmin needs these for target practice," he said, and Jeongin took a sip before he asked if that meant Hyunjin had been drinking all day. "Not _all_ day. On and off. Just clearing out the last dregs of a few bottles." He leaned against Jeongin’s side, holding up the leather-bound book of sonnets. "What did you think of these? You fell asleep reading them, so you either loved them or found them insufferably boring."

"I loved them," Jeongin clarified, and Hyunjin practically beamed. "It- I’m maybe not the best at getting the meaning of them, it took me a while with a lot of them-"

"That’s the point," Hyunjin told him, looping an arm around his shoulders. "If you understand something instantly, you don’t learn anything. But when you have to take a second look, when you have to  _ engage _ with something… that’s learning. That’s what it’s about. Anyone who thinks they know everything is an asshole." Jeongin laughed, and Hyunjin frowned at him. "What?"

"I just thought you’d be more poetic with your insults," Jeongin pointed out.

Hyunjin snorted. "I probably should be. But I’m drunk, so I think I get a free pass to call people assholes."

"Yeah, sure."

Hyunjin pushed the bottle into Jeongin’s hand again, resting his head on his shoulder. "Come on. Join me."

"Sure." Taking another sip of the wine, Jeongin leaned his cheek carefully on Hyunjin’s hair. It was nice, he thought, to be this close to someone. To laugh with them like this.

"Stay with me tomorrow," Hyunjin said softly.

"What?"

"I missed you."

"You could have come with us," Jeongin pointed out.

Hyunjin hummed, and gave an awkward, confined shrug. "You should spend time with the others too. They’re nice. They like you."

"I like them, too."

"But you like me the most, right?" Hyunjin murmured. Jeongin thought he might be falling asleep.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "I like you the most." It was true, he realised. Out of all of his new dorm mates, Hyunjin was the one who had burrowed his way deepest into Jeongin’s heart. He was strange, and dramatic, and more tactile than anyone Jeongin had ever met, but Jeongin  _ liked _ him.

"Good," he heard Hyunjin say. "I like you the most, too." He lapsed into silence, and Jeongin thought that he might have genuinely fallen asleep. But eventually, he shifted with a sigh, reaching towards the end of his bed and passing Jeongin a book. "You should read these."

"Shelley?" Jeongin asked as he read the cover. "The author of Frankenstein?"

Hyunjin shook his head. "Her husband. Good poetry. Although you should read Frankenstein, too. Add it to the list."

"Sure," Jeongin agreed, laughing a little. "I will."

He stayed with Hyunjin until the sun had set, talking and laughing and finishing off the wine. At some point, they ended up lying side by side on Hyunjin’s bed, staring up at the ceiling together. Jeongin didn’t really know how they got there, but he didn’t mind it; the way Hyunjin laced their fingers together without a word; the way he smiled when he turned to speak to Jeongin, leaving them almost nose to nose as they laughed at nothing, the wine setting joy loose in their chests.

Hyunjin clung a little when Jeongin sat up to return to his own bed, stretching out his arm so their hands were joined until the last possible moment. "Goodnight, Hyunjin," Jeongin said as he finally pulled free, and Hyunjin smiled softly.

"Goodnight, Dorian," he murmured as Jeongin shut the bathroom door behind him, and Jeongin thought he could feel the softness of his voice even through the walls.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a somber affair; Seungmin and Jisung were already talking quietly at the breakfast table when Jeongin arrived, pulling a half-asleep Hyunjin in tow. A muscle was twitching in Seungmin’s jaw, and Jisung just looked  _ tired . _

"Please, Jisung," he heard Seungmin say as they approached. "Just a little? Just some fruit, something with no fat in it, just-"

"I can’t. Not today."

"Jisung-"

"Stop it, Seungmin. Just- I’m going back to my room." He stood, chair moving against the floor with an ugly scraping sound. Seungmin looked for a moment as though he were about to follow him, but Hyunjin reached out a hand.

"Leave it, Min," he said quietly, and Jeongin watched as Seungmin twitched a little before he finally turned back to the table.

"Got anything I can shoot?" he asked, almost in a growl.

"Yup," Hyunjin replied casually, loading one too many teaspoons of jam onto his toast.

"Good. Meet me outside."

"Will do." Seungmin disappeared then, storming out of the dining hall, and Hyunjin offered Jeongin a small smile along with the pot of jam. "Come with me? Seungmin won’t be much company when he’s like this, so I’m sure having you around will make it more fun."

Jeongin nodded slightly, unsure of what he was agreeing to. "Are they ok?" he asked.

Hyunjin sighed. "This happens sometimes," he said. "I’d rather leave it to one of them to explain the history there, if I’m honest."

Jeongin blinked a few times. He’d never heard Hyunjin so reticent about anything. It must be important, he supposed, to upset both Jisung and Seungmin so very much.

"Ok," he agreed. "I’ll ask later."

* * *

Hyunjin took him back to their room after breakfast, gathering as many of his empty bottles as they each could carry.

"Seungmin’s going to shoot  _ these _ _?"_ Jeongin asked. Hyunjin nodded. "But they’re made of glass!"

"Just don’t run around barefoot for a while."

"Noted."

The rain from the previous day had soaked into the soil, the grass dried by another day of unseasonably bright sun. It was barely even cold, and Jeongin lifted his face to the sky, letting the last trailing hints of summer warm his skin.

"You look like a cat," Hyunjin teased, bumping their shoulders together. "It’s not fair that you look like that when my hands are too full to draw you."

Jeongin didn’t quite know what to say to that. Luckily, Seungmin saved him from having to answer, shouting across the fields.

"Over here!" he called, waving one arm in an arc. The other hung at his side, and Jeongin thought he could make out the shadow of a pistol in his hand. As they approached, he saw that he had been right; the weapon was old and ornate, and Seungmin handled it with care despite the way controlled aggression seeped into his every motion. "Good haul," he commented, nodding at the bottles they both held. "Do we need to get you seen for a drinking problem, Hyunjin?"

"Jeongin helped," Hyunjin told him, and Seungmin gave a tight smile. The sight of it should have relaxed Jeongin a little, but somehow it only served to make his unease grow. He didn’t like seeing Seungmin so angry.

"Barely, I’m sure. Come on." The two of them followed him around to a secluded spot on the edge of the woods, the open grass just beginning to fade into the tree line. Hyunjin piled up his bottles at the base of a tree, the glass gleaming like dew in the sunshine, and Jeongin followed suit.

"Want to start now?" Hyunjin asked, and Seungmin nodded. Gesturing for Jeongin to stay beside the tree, Hyunjin picked out a bottle of shining green; it was the one from his first night, Jeongin thought. If he looked at Hyunjin, the sparkle in his eyes, he thought he could still taste it.

Wandering a fair distance away, Hyunjin turned back to Seungmin, raising the bottle questioningly. Seungmin nodded, and raised his gun.

Hyunjin threw the bottle as high as he could.

And Seungmin shot it down.

Jeongin watched fragments of glass rain down, Hyunjin not even attempting to shield himself as he walked back towards the tree to pick out another bottle.

"Good throw," Seungmin remarked, and Hyunjin bowed low enough that he almost fell.

Hyunjin picked up several bottles this time, taking them back towards his previous spot, and Jeongin watched him throw them one after another, Seungmin hitting each one with ease and sending glass tumbling down like pieces of the sky.

"Want to have a go?" Hyunjin asked, waving a rather lovely cut glass whiskey bottle in Jeongin’s direction.

" I just… throw it?"

"As high as you can get it," Seungmin called. "If it’s too low I might hit you." Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was joking.

"Come on," Hyunjin told him, picking up several bottles. "Let’s do one together."

It was easy to find the spot where Hyunjin had been standing; the area glittered, a fine mist of glass coating the grass while larger fragments settled like fallen stars. Hyunjin settled himself behind Jeongin, hand encircling his own where he clutched the neck of the bottle. Hesitantly, Jeongin raised his arm, Hyunjin echoing his movement, and waited for Seungmin to nod. On his signal, Jeongin felt Hyunjin guide him through the throw, the force he needed to put behind it, and a moment later he felt a fine rain of glass hitting the shoulders of his jacket.

"There," Hyunjin said, close by his ear. "You’ve got it." He smiled as he retreated back to the tree, leaving Jeongin alone with the bottles at his feet. Jeongin smiled back, wondering why he felt quite so shaken.

"Ready," Seungmin called after he hesitated for a beat too long, and Jeongin picked up a bottle of shining ruby red, tossing it high into the air. The shot sounded, and glass rained down again, settling like drops of blood in the grass.

After a few more bottles, Hyunjin and Jeongin swapped again. Jeongin watched Seungmin closely, wondering what exactly was going through his head as he reloaded his gun.

"What?" Seungmin asked, not looking up. "You’re staring at me."

Jeongin jumped, a little startled. "I was just- I was wondering why."

"Why what?"

"Why you’re shooting bottles."

"Because Chan expressly forbade me from shooting Jisung’s parents," Seungmin replied casually, and Jeongin sat speechless as Hyunjin threw a few more bottles and Seungmin shot them down.

"You were going to- Seungmin-"

"I know, I know," Seungmin said with a heavy sigh. "It seems drastic. But they deserve it."

"Who?" Hyunjin called as he wandered back to collect the last three bottles. "Jisung’s parents?"

"Yup."

"What did they do?" Jeongin asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be discussing this with a gun in Seungmin’s hand, but he’d started now.

"Made him feel worthless," Seungmin said, voice low. It was carefully controlled, words coming out clear and sure, but Jeongin could see his hands shaking. "Starved him, and then sent him away when he got sick because his body didn’t have the strength to fight anything off. You know, they make him sit at the dinner table when he’s not allowed to eat? He has to sit and watch them go through three full courses when his diet is so strict that he barely even gets one meal a day."

"Why?" Jeongin asked, horrified. "Why would they do that to their son?"

"Because his mother’s a bitch who cheated on her awful husband," Seungmin said bitterly. "And Jisung’s the evidence."

"What- how?"

"Have you taken a good look at him?" Seungmin asked, and Jeongin nodded hesitantly. Jisung was handsome, Jeongin thought; even with his pallor in that infirmary bed, he’d caught Jeongin’s attention instantly, all wide eyes and softness that somehow lent him rather classic good looks.

"The Hans, on both his mother’s and father’s side, have remarkably hollow cheeks," Hyunjin interjected, flinging himself down against Jeongin’s side. "You’ve probably noticed that Jisung’s are rather round."

"As are those of the family chauffeur," Seungmin added.

Jeongin felt his eyes widen. "You think- Mrs Han-"

"Slept with the chauffeur?" Seungmin finished. "Yeah. And that both she and Mr Han are repulsive enough people that they take it out on Jisung. Starving him to try to make it less obvious that he’s not his father’s son. Which is why I was going to kill them."

Hyunjin snorted. "You only got that idea because you’d just read Dostoevsky. Thinking yourself the extraordinary man with the right to overstep the law for the sake of the world."

"For the sake of Jisung’s sanity," Seungmin pointed out, and Hyunjin shrugged.

"Fair enough."

"But you didn’t do it?" Jeongin asked.

Seungmin shook his head. "Chan got wind of the idea. Took the gun and the Dostoevsky. I wasn’t particularly happy until I’d cooled off and Jisung had talked to me."

"I never found out what he said to you," Hyunjin said curiously, and Seungmin smiled.

"Mostly that he’d rather have me there than in prison. Didn’t want to be the Sonya to my Raskolnikov."

"Romantic."

"It is, rather," Seungmin mused. "Stopped me putting a bullet in his father’s head, at any rate."

"I’m glad," Jeongin said quietly. "I don’t think things would be the same without you here."

Slowly, Seungmin smiled at him. "Likewise," he said. "I’m glad you showed up. Throw the last few for me?"

"Sure."

The last three bottles were colourless, distorting Jeongin’s vision of Seungmin as he held it up, a blurred and twisted figure nodding his assent. And when they shattered above him, Jeongin couldn’t help but remember the meteor shower, Seungmin holding Jisung close beneath the blanket; his lover, holding all the stars within his head, fragile and lovely enough that Seungmin would have stained his hands forever all for the adoration of him.

* * *

Hyunjin insisted that Jeongin stay with him a while longer, even as Seungmin headed back to the main body of the school.

"I have glass in my hair," he complained. "Help me brush it out?"

Jeongin had agreed, laughing at his pout, and so Hyunjin laid his head in Jeongin’s lap, sighing happily as he threaded his fingers through his hair slowly. It was softer than Jeongin had expected somehow, sliding between his fingers like silk, little coloured crystals falling from the strands.

"Do you understand, now?" Hyunjin asked. "About Jisung and Seungmin."

"I think so. Jisung’s still not… he’s not good with eating, right?"

"He’s not. It’s worse when he’s spent time with his parents. The first few weeks of every term… his health is never great. He’s developed a problem with his heart, and his immune system just… fails him, really. We do our best to look after him, Seungmin especially, but…"

"You can’t force him to eat," Jeongin finished quietly.

"Yeah." Hyunjin sighed heavily, and Jeongin could hear the weight of grief in it as though Hyunjin spent the first weeks of each term preparing himself for the worst. Jisung really had seemed  _ fragile _ the first time Jeongin had seen him, and for a moment he thought he understood the fear of losing him that weighed so heavy on them all.

"Hey, let’s swap," Hyunjin said, the brightness of his tone ringing false. "Your hair’s probably full of glass, too."

"I- yeah. I think it is," Jeongin admitted. Hyunjin smiled as he sat up, taking Jeongin by the shoulders and gently manoeuvring him down so that his head rested on Hyunjin’s knee. Hyunjin set to work, humming as he combed softly through Jeongin’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp to dislodge the finer shards. The sensation, along with the sun on his skin and Hyunjin’s slow melody, was soporific, and little by little, Jeongin fell asleep.

He dreamed of medication in kaleidoscope colours, and of stars shot from the sky, and of being held close while they fell.


	3. shelley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favourite chapter, so I hope you enjoy it! I also highly recommend reading Frankenstein; it's one of my favourite books!
> 
> Next update Thursday <3

Twilight had fallen by the time Jeongin awoke, settling over the grounds and slowly revealing the stars, spring blossoms opening in the canopy of the sky. He could see Hyunjin glowing a little against them, holding a book in one hand, and it took Jeongin a moment to realise that a candle was lighting him up from one side, half his face cast into shadow as the other shone.

He must have made some faint sound, because Hyunjin shifted, lowering his book to smile at him through the dark. "Sleeping beauty awakes, huh?"

"Is it… night time?" Jeongin asked. The words came out a little slurred, and Hyunjin laughed softly.

"Almost. It’s about seven. We missed dinner, but Chan brought us some stuff out. Candles, too, but I didn’t want to light too many of them while you were asleep."

"You should have woken me up," Jeongin pointed out, lifting his head from Hyunjin’s knee. Hyunjin’s hand trailed over his hair as he did so, and Jeongin shivered a little as he felt fingertips run over the back of his neck.

"You looked like you were having good dreams," Hyunjin told him, "and I’ve always got something to read."

"You’ll strain your eyes," Jeongin chastised, and Hyunjin shrugged.

"I’ll get glasses. They’ll make me look distinguished."

"You look distinguished already," Jeongin muttered, and Hyunjin smiled at him in the flickering light. There was something oddly intangible about him, Jeongin thought, out here in the dusk. Always out of reach, as far away as a marsh light even as he placed a candle in Jeongin’s hand.

"Come on," he said. "Let’s get some proper light and see if Chan brought us anything good."

"We could eat it back at the dorm," Jeongin pointed out.

"Where’s the fun in that?" Hyunjin asked, a new angle of light illuminating his eyes as he flicked the sparkwheel of the lighter he’d pulled from his pocket. Hand shaking just a little, he held the flame to the wick of the candle in Jeongin’s palm; Jeongin just watched Hyunjin’s eyes, the way the reflection of the flame leaped and coiled as though trapped within them. He could feel the heat of it against his fingertips, rising to the point of being almost unbearable as the flame danced around the wax, but he waited, trusting Hyunjin to light the candle before his fingers began to burn. Finally, it caught, and Hyunjin let out a faint hum of satisfaction as the reflection of the lighter vanished from his eyes.

Pushing the candle gently into the soil, Jeongin watched as the light caught on the fragments of glass that still rested on the earth, teased from their hair and fallen from their shoulders. Little by little, they shone brighter as Hyunjin lit more candles, and for an odd, sleep-addled moment, Jeongin could almost believe them to be reflections of the stars.

"The food’s by your legs," Hyunjin told him, and Jeongin jolted a little before he reached for the little neatly wrapped bundle by his knees.

"Huh," he said vaguely. "Chan packaged it nicely."

"Oh, he picked that up from Minho," Hyunjin told him, laughing. "He'd bring Chan little packages like that of food from the outside world. Sweets and stuff, you know? Always wrapped it up nicely, and I guess Chan figured out how to do it eventually."

Slowly, Jeongin unwrapped it on the grass beside him, catching an apple as it attempted to roll into the woods. " It’s always cold stuff for dinner on Sundays," Hyunjin explained. "I think they just can’t be bothered to cook."

"Lucky for us," Jeongin replied. "I doubt Chan could have snuck out two full plates of hot food in a bundle."

"Good point. Hey, pass me some bread?"

Night fell around them in earnest as they ate, the candles seeming to grow brighter as they pushed at the gathering dark; Hyunjin leaned close to them, opening his book again. It was the Shelley he had lent him, Jeongin realised, and he patted his pocket just to make sure that it was the same volume. Hyunjin laughed. " Yes, I took your book. Although, technically, it’s mine."

"Is it? Or is it another one you stole from the library? I don’t think they’ll be too happy if you singe the corners on a candle."

Hyunjin shook his head, grinning. "No, I promise this one is actually mine. I got it from a second hand bookshop. I spent an hour in there, just browsing through all the books. I could have stayed longer, but my parents dragged me away. I just paid for the book that called to me the most, I suppose." He turned it over in his hands, thumbing through the slightly yellowed pages. "I think you’ll like it."

"Read it to me?" Jeongin asked hesitantly, and Hyunjin smiled; he had something of a unique smile, Jeongin thought, soft as the candlelight and just as sharp if you lingered in it too long.

"Let me find one I think suits you," he agreed, and Jeongin waited patiently, watching the light play over his features as he flicked through the pages. Eventually, he hummed, long fingers hovering over one particular poem. "Maybe just the first two stanzas of this one," he murmured, and Jeongin did his best to focus on his words, and not the timbre of the voice in which he read them.

"How eloquent are eyes!" he began. "Not the rapt Poet’s frenzied lay, when the soul’s wildest feelings stray, can speak so well as they. How eloquent are eyes! Not music’s most impassioned note, on which love’s warmest fervours float, like they bid rapture rise."

The brief pause he allowed between stanzas seemed to hover longer than the second he gave it; a moment, stretched by the haze of candlelight and starlight as they blurred against one another in the night, lending Hyunjin some otherworldly cast as they fought to illuminate him. Jeongin didn’t think he knew how to look away.

"Love! Look thus again, that your look may light a waste of years, darting the beam that conquers cares, thro’ the cold shower of tears! Love! Look thus again, that Time the victor as he flies, may pause to gaze upon thine eyes, a victor then in vain." He faded into silence, the quiet of night-birds and the breeze settling into Jeongin’s ears again. Hyunjin turned to him, letting the book fall closed as he drew his hands away.

"It’s lovely," Jeongin managed to say. "What… what does it mean?"

"What do you think it means?" Hyunjin asked teasingly, leaning back and resting on his hands as he placed them behind Jeongin’s knees as though he were about to lie across his legs. "I read it for you, after all."

"Can I read it again?"

"Nope. Closed book test," Hyunjin said, grinning.

Jeongin laughed a little incredulously. "That’s not fair! I only heard it once, and I-" He stopped, not wanting to admit for some reason that he’d been more focused on Hyunjin than on the poem itself. "Let me think for a minute."  Hyunjin nodded, tilting his head back and staring up at the stars as Jeongin considered. "Someone with beautiful eyes," he said eventually. "Eyes that time would stop for."

"Pretty much," Hyunjin agreed quietly. He lifted his head again, meeting his gaze. "Do you see why I read it for you?" Jeongin hesitated, and Hyunjin’s expression shifted a little, clouds passing across the moon. "You have such expressive eyes, Dorian," he said softly, reaching out a hand to brush Jeongin’s cheek. "Every time I look at them I see something new."

Jeongin flushed, unsure whether or not to turn away under the intensity of Hyunjin’s gaze. How could Hyunjin talk about the loveliness of Jeongin’s eyes when his own were so perfect? So bright and so beautifully formed, catching every detail of the world in their reflections?

"I just don’t understand how you don’t see how lovely you are," Hyunjin murmured, settling his palm on Jeongin’s cheek in earnest. "I get that maybe no one ever told you, but… just look at you." His fingertips danced over Jeongin’s cheekbone, down his jaw, mapping the framework of his bones. "So beautiful. Your eyes especially; just as eloquent as Shelley says."

Jeongin sat in silence, unsure of what to say, or even how to untie his tongue with Hyunjin so close, saying things that made him feel as though he were blushing and glowing all at once. "I don’t think I could stop time with them," he settled for, hoping a joke would break the strange tension settling between them.

But Hyunjin just smiled, soft and close enough that Jeongin thought he could feel the candle-flame warmth of it. "I think you could," he said quietly. "Truly, I do."

The moment hovered, flickering between them, until Jeongin looked away. "You said only the first two stanzas," he said. "What are the others about?"

"How you  _ shouldn’t _ stop time with your gaze," Hyunjin explained, shifting away from Jeongin and back towards the book. "How love inspired only by the look in someone’s eyes might just be a fleeting desire, and not love in the truest sense of the word. The passing of time will change it and fade it away, while age has no effect on real love."

"So, you should spend less time looking at my eyes?" Jeongin suggested. It was mostly in jest; he found he liked the attention Hyunjin gave him, even if it was something entirely new.

Hyunjin hummed. "Maybe," he agreed. "But I don’t think I will." He smiled, barely giving Jeongin time to smile back before he picked up the nearest candle and blew it out. "Come on. We should head back, or we’ll catch our deaths out here like some kind of heroine from a gothic novel."

Following suit, Jeongin blew out the candles nearest to him, plunging them piece by piece into darkness as Hyunjin gathered up the cloths Chan had wrapped their food in.

"Maybe we should have left one candle so we could walk back," he suggested as the last light flickered out, and Hyunjin laughed.

"Just stay close to me," he said, reaching for Jeongin’s hand and pulling him against his side. "I know the terrain."

Jeongin laughed for most of the way back to the school as Hyunjin held him close enough that they almost stumbled over each other’s feet, candle wax dripping onto their shoes. They were still laughing by the time they reached their dorm; Chan was sitting on the sofa as though he had been waiting up for them, flipping through a book of anatomical figures. He waved, and Hyunjin burst out into another round of laughter as Jeongin gave a little wave back.

"Go to bed, you two," Chan said, something fond bleeding into his tone. "And give me back my candles."

They each handed over the candles they carried in their hands and in their pockets, holding back more laughter as they found their pockets full of wax that had run from them. Chan just rolled his eyes, disappearing into his room without another word, and Jeongin could feel his cheeks begin to ache as Hyunjin tugged him by the hand into their room.

"I think we might have to wash our jackets," he pointed out. "They’re covered in wax, and glass, and grass stains."

Hyunjin shrugged. "That’s tomorrow’s problem," he said, pulling the books from his pockets and tossing his jacket in the vague direction of the chair before he collapsed face down onto his bed. "Right now, sleep."

"I’m going to take a shower," Jeongin told him. "Get the last of the dust out my hair. So if you want to brush your teeth, do it now."

Hyunjin snorted. "Can’t I just brush my teeth  _ while _ you’re in the shower? We’re going to be living together for the next two and a half years, after all." He lifted his head and grinned. "I won’t look, I promise."

Jeongin shook his head, probably more vehemently than was necessary. "Nope. Brush them now, or fall asleep while I’m in the shower and wake up with gross teeth."

"Fine. Give me ten minutes."

Jeongin sat on his bed as Hyunjin loped towards the bathroom, pulling scraps of candle wax from his pockets. He wasn’t particularly tired, he realised, and he supposed it was most likely due to the fact that he’d spent most of the day asleep. It was rare that he spent a day idle; at home there was always something to  _ do _ , some lesson to attend, some social function to prepare for. Besides, he didn’t have many friends to be idle with.

But today, throwing bottles for Seungmin, falling asleep in the October sun, a picnic lit by candles and stars… it had been perfect. He had done almost nothing, and it had been  _ perfect _ .

"Done," Hyunjin called as he emerged from the bathroom, flinging himself down on the bed again. "Enjoy your shower."

"Thanks," Jeongin said quietly. "And… thanks for today. I had fun."

Hyunjin smiled softly, getting up and crossing the room to lean close and tuck the book of Shelley poetry back into Jeongin’s pocket. "So did I."

Jeongin patted the book awkwardly, doing his best to smile despite the slight way his heart stuttered at feeling Hyunjin so close again. He took a step backwards towards the bathroom, and then another, and finally managed to turn away. "Sweet dreams," Hyunjin called as he began to close the door, and with one flick of the light switch, plunged the room into darkness just before Jeongin could reply.

* * *

Jeongin didn’t sleep much that night; he did his best, closing his eyes and burrowing beneath the warmth of his covers, but his mind was running over the day too fast, a miasma of broken glass and candlelight.   


Hyunjin had called him beautiful.  _ Hyunjin _ . Possibly the loveliest person Jeongin had ever seen. He had brushed his fingertips over Jeongin’s cheek, and looked him in the eyes, and told him he was beautiful.

Jeongin pressed a palm to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart through his sternum. The rhythm of it was faster than usual, pounding out a joyous drumbeat that he couldn’t quite interpret. He wasn’t often explicitly complimented at home, it was true. His situation was nothing like Jisung’s; he was treated with a sort of well-meaning indifference most of the time, he supposed. He was congratulated if he did well in his lessons. But complimented? Called beautiful?

Never.

He felt the sudden urge to get up, run to the bathroom, examine his features in the mirror. Try to see what Hyunjin saw in them. He tried to envision it in his mind’s eye; his eyes, his cheekbones, the shape of his mouth. It didn’t come to him clearly. Jeongin sighed in the dark, rolling over in bed. He could look in the morning. Get up early, before Hyunjin, and spend as much time as he needed to in front of the mirror, trying to understand.

Because when he thought of beauty, the first image that came to mind was Hyunjin.  _ Hyunjin _ was beautiful. It was in the shine and the shape of his eyes, strong brows above them; the line of his jaw; the fullness of his lips. If Jeongin looked at him for too long, he lost his breath.

He rolled over again, burying his face in his pillow. His heart was thundering in his ears again, swelling joy in his chest, and he felt the urge to curl up into a ball around it, hold it close. But he lay still, smiling into the dark, and waited for sleep to come.

At some point, Jeongin must have fallen asleep, because he was awoken by a bar of bare, grey sunlight touching his face. 

"Sorry," Hyunjin whispered. "I meant to wake you a bit more gently."

"Why were you going to wake me?" Jeongin asked in a murmur.

"I wanted to watch the sunrise. Do you want to watch it with me?"

"Sure."

"Good." Jeongin saw him smile in the faded light, the shade of it turning him to something painted in a thousand shades of grey. "Your bed’s kind of the best place to watch it from."   


"You could have just sat on the end of it."

"Nah," Hyunjin said, walking around the bed so that he was out of Jeongin’s eyeline. He felt a waft of cold air as the covers were lifted, followed by the warmth of another body against his. Mostly warmth.

"Your feet are  _ freezing _ _,"_ Jeongin grumbled as Hyunjin shuffled closer, wrapping an arm over Jeongin’s waist to ensure that both of them were well-balanced in the bed and had no danger of falling.

Hyunjin laughed softly in his ear, pushing his foot against Jeongin’s bare ankle; somehow, despite how short a time they’d known each other, it didn’t feel invasive. Not even the fact that Hyunjin had just climbed into Jeongin’s  _ bed _ felt invasive, he realised. It was a strange thought, and he found as Hyunjin sighed against his shoulder that he didn’t know how to shake it.

"Why didn’t you claim this bed?" he asked. "If it’s the best for watching the sunrise."

"I’ve always had the other one. My old roommate had this one last year. It felt weird to switch."

"He graduated?"

"Yup. Good riddance, to be honest. He wasn’t that nice a guy." Hyunjin shifted, reaching over to ensure enough of the duvet was covering Jeongin. "Glad we’ve got you."

"Glad to be here," Jeongin countered, and he thought, somehow, that he felt Hyunjin smile.

"Hey, look," Hyunjin murmured close to his ear. "It’s starting."

Jeongin diverted his attention to the window, and the light starting to form there. The sun was just beginning to break the horizon, casting the long strips of cloud to muted gold as brilliant amber streaked the sky. Jeongin could see a hundred hues of sun-touched silver as it continued to rise, little by little, until it was too bright for him to stand.

"It’s nice, right?" Hyunjin asked, and Jeongin hummed in response. "You tired?"

"A little."

"Go back to sleep. I’ll shut the curtains in a mo."

"You can go back to sleep, too," Jeongin said sleepily.

"Can I go sleep here?" Hyunjin asked. "I like your bed."

"Ok," Jeongin agreed. He didn’t mind having Hyunjin beside him, he found. He was warm, and familiar, and something about the scent of him set Jeongin’s heart spinning with that dizzying joy all over again.

He felt the rush of October morning air as Hyunjin lifted the duvet, padding across the floor to shut out the dawn. He was back in Jeongin’s bed a moment later, shuffling close again, and the warmth of his arms and the softness of his breath had Jeongin falling back to sleep in minutes.

* * *

As October passed by, weather fading slowly into sleet and mist, Jeongin found himself thinking more and more often about what Chan and Felix had said to him; that it was all right not to know much about himself, but that he should try to learn. That this place might help.

He took to playing the violin more, often skipping mathematics to practice. Jisung had promised to help him pass the exam when it came down to it, winking as he told him that there really wasn’t much need to attend a subject he wanted to drop next year. Jeongin didn’t think that he would continue with mathematics for very long.

But music; he found himself drinking in music like a butterfly just out of his cocoon, sunning his wings as he settled on a flower. More often than not, the others would have to pull his headphones from his ears to get him to listen to their conversation, his mind always drifting back to Mozart and Bach and any piece he thought he could play. For reasons he was unsure of, he hadn’t told the others much about his newfound love; it was still new, he thought, still learning to fly, and he wanted to keep it to himself until it found its wings.

Hyunjin remained the member of the dorm Jeongin spent the most time with, reading beside him and tapping his knee to prompt him to remove his headphones if he wanted someone to read aloud to. "Where have you been?" he’d ask jokingly when Jeongin emerged from the practice rooms. "Are you sneaking off to visit a beau like Chan? Are you building a body in the basement like Victor Frankenstein?"

"The art studios are in the basement," Jeongin would point out. "Seungmin’s down there, developing photos."

And Hyunjin would press his hand to his heart, apparently wounded that Jeongin was spending more time with Seungmin than him, until Jeongin laughingly explained that Seungmin wouldn’t even let him in.

"I’ll give you a tour of it sometime," Hyunjin promised. "Once Seungmin’s finished developing endless photos of Jisung."

And It was on one such day, Jeongin squirreled away in one of the practice rooms with his violin, that the lights went out.

The room fell suddenly into a darkness complete enough that Jeongin was unsure if his vision had failed altogether; it took a moment for his eyes to adjust, slowly recognising the clouded October light that crept around the edges of the blackout blinds.

"Power cut!" he heard someone call, and he ducked his head out of the door to see the darkened corridors begin to flood with students, faces lost in shadow, nothing more than matching uniforms and muddled voices.

A hand wrapped around Jeongin’s wrist and he jolted, almost dropping his bow, until he realised that it was Changbin.

"Hey," he said over the sound of the rain, standing close so that Jeongin could make out his features a little in the dark. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I just- kind of surprised."

"Sorry. We should have warned you this would happen. Winter is full of these." He tried to shift his hand down to hold Jeongin’s, twitching a little when he felt smooth wood beneath his fingertips. "Is that- you play violin?"

"Sort of. I’m not that good yet, I- I was going to tell people, but-"

"Hey, it’s ok," Changbin said softly. "Your secret’s safe with me. Put it back and come with me, we have power cut traditions to introduce you to."

Feeling his way around the dark room, Jeongin stowed his violin away as best he could, and followed Changbin up the stairs. The school took on a different quality in this darkness, something secret about it beneath the thunder of the rain; it was as though they were hidden away in a dimension all their own, he thought, cut off from the world outside. Alone, aside from each other.

Most of the others were gathered in the atrium when he and Changbin arrived. Jisung and Chan were lighting multitudes of candles, the glow illuminating the empty space by Jisung’s side where Seungmin would usually be hovering. He would have been down in the dark room, Jeongin supposed, dim red light snapping suddenly into black.

"Hey, you found him," Felix called from the sofa. Changbin nodded, raising their joined hands as though showing off the victor of a competition, and Felix laughed. Hyunjin smiled too, patting the sofa beside him.

"Thanks," Jeongin murmured to Changbin as he wandered over, stretching out against Hyunjin’s side and feeling an arm settle over his shoulders.

"Someone needs to explain the traditions to him," Changbin pointed out, and Jisung laughed.

"I guess we do! It’s power cut season, after all. The storms will only get worse from here on out."

"So, what do you guys do?" Jeongin asked uncertainly. He’d mostly gotten over any lingering shyness around his dorm mates, but group activities like this still left him a little nervous.

"Step one," Chan announced. "Candles. As many as we can find."

"Step two," Felix called, holding up the box in his lap. "Chocolate. We have like, fourteen of these boxes for this season."

"We’ll probably have to restock halfway through November," Changbin pointed out, poking Felix in the stomach gently. "This one has a sweet tooth. Gets through four times as much as the rest of us."

Felix laughed. "Good point. You probably shouldn’t have left me the box."

"Step three is Chan reads to us," Hyunjin explained softly to Jeongin. "He normally picks something half decent."

Chan opened his mouth, perhaps to state his choice or chastise Hyunjin for insulting his taste, but he was interrupted by Seungmin’s arrival.

"Sorry I’m late," he panted. "Ran up all the stairs from the basement."

"You’re here now," Jisung pointed out, reaching out a hand to him. Seungmin took it, spinning Jisung around under his arm as though they were dancing before pulling him in for a kiss long enough that Felix threw a chocolate at them.

"Cut it out. You can get cozy later."

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, still holding Jisung close by his waist. "Up for swapping rooms for tonight, Changbin?"

"No," Chan said firmly before he could reply. "I’m right next door, and I deal with that enough. No."

Felix laughed loudly enough that the candles stirred, and Jeongin felt Hyunjin poke his cheek gently where a blush had risen.

"What are you reading, Chan?" Changbin called, apparently equally embarrassed by the conversation, even as Felix shuffled between his legs to lean his back against the width of Changbin’s chest.

"Frankenstein," Chan replied, and a chorus of pleased hums rose around the room.

"Perfect for a storm," Jisung remarked, lifting his hands to flutter his fingers in imitation of a ghost. "A good horror story."

Hyunjin gasped in mock offense. "This isn’t just a  _ good _ horror story, Jisung. This is  _ the _ horror story. Written by the reigning queen of the genre."

"Didn’t she get laid on her mother’s grave?" Felix asked, squinting at the little leaflet that came with the box of chocolates.

"She  _ w hat _ _?”_ Jeongin asked, eyes wide, and he felt Hyunjin laugh.

"Yeah, she did."

"Maybe Chan should have let me shoot your parents," Seungmin said thoughtfully as Jisung dragged him over to an armchair. "We could have really added insult to injury with that if they were dead."

"You’re awful," Jisung told him, even as he smiled and pushed him gently down into the chair, sitting across his lap.

"If you’re all done talking," Chan said loudly, "I’ll begin."

"Yes, dear father," Felix joked, and Chan shot him a mock-stern smile before he settled and began.

"Letter one," he read, voice soft and clear in the candlelight. "To Mrs Saville, England."

He must have read to them for around an hour, Jeongin thought; they made fair progress with the story, at least, passing through the letters and into Frankenstein’s account of his creation of the monster, followed by the monster’s description of his days spent with the family in the farmhouse. The chocolates made several rounds, Felix often taking two or three, and Jisung politely shaking his head; Hyunjin often insisted on feeding Jeongin his, fingertips pressed softly to his lips as Jeongin took the sweets between his teeth. Chan raised his eyebrows once at the behaviour, but made no comment, continuing the story as though he hadn’t noticed.

It was a nice tradition, Jeongin decided; the seven of them, gathered in safety and companionship, the candlelight and Chan’s soft voice shutting out the storm, the taste of chocolate covering the cold, damp scent of the rain. It would happen all through the winter, if the others’ testimonies were anything to go by, and Jeongin found himself glad of it; perhaps he would practice the violin less, and perhaps his assignments would go unwritten, but he didn’t particularly mind forfeiting those for the sake of these golden moments with the people he had grown to consider his truest friends.

There was a collective disappointed groan when the lights flickered on, outshining the candles and momentarily blinding them all.

"Someone turn off the lights so that he can finish the chapter," Felix suggested, and Chan laughed as he shook his head.

"No, don’t. It’s late. You should all be asleep anyway."

"You really are our dad," Jeongin muttered fondly, and Chan turned a little pink.

"Go on. To bed, all of you." He pointed at Seungmin and Jisung before looking around at each of them, eyes narrowed. "Your  _ own _ beds."

Seungmin snorted, and Jisung pressed a kiss to his cheek before climbing off his lap and setting to blowing out the candles.

"Leave it, Jisung," Jeongin heard Changbin say softly. "Your lungs are never great this time of year."

Reluctantly, Jisung leaned away, and Seungmin wrapped his arms gently around him from behind. The moment seemed a little too intimate, and somehow a little too sad, for Jeongin to look, and he focused on pulling gently out of Hyunjin’s embrace.

"Mmm, no," Hyunjin murmured. "We can just sleep here."

"We absolutely can’t. We’re both way too tall for a sofa."

"Fine," Hyunjin said, pouting a little. "I’ll let you go if I can sleep in your bed again."

Jeongin hesitated, pretending to think it over. "You can sleep in my bed again if, and  _ only _ if, you wear socks. Your feet are  _ always _ cold."

Hyunjin laughed, finally releasing him. "Deal."

Jeongin looked up to find Chan staring at them, looking a little lost. "I just told everyone to sleep in their own beds," he said hopelessly. "You were listening. We made eye contact."

"Yeah, but it’s not-" Jeongin began. "We’re just sleeping, we’re not-" he gestured to Seungmin and Jisung, feeling a blush rising in his cheeks again. "We’re just  _ sleeping ." _

A smile broke across Chan’s face, and Jeongin realised suddenly that he was most likely being teased. He still wasn’t quite used to that from Chan.

"I promise we’ll be quiet," Hyunjin said from behind him, and Jeongin turned, outraged, just in time to catch him winking.

"Shut up!" he called, laughing at Hyunjin’s expression of mock-innocence. "Come on. Bed. Before anyone else can join in making fun of me."

"We love you!" Jisung called.

"Use protection!" Felix followed, and Jeongin thought he heard Changbin slap his arm.

Quiet descended over their room once he shut the door behind him, the others muffled by the wood. It was like hearing the sea from your window, Jeongin thought, the rush and hum of it against the sand.

"You don’t have to let me sleep in your bed," Hyunjin said gently from the doorway. "If it makes you uncomfortable."

Jeongin turned to see him leaning against the door, smiling faintly. He shook his head. "It’s ok. I don’t mind." He laughed quietly. "I guess I’m just not used to being teased. Didn’t have many friends to tease me back home."

"I know you had one," Hyunjin pointed out, reaching his fingertips under Jeongin’s collar and lifting up the gold chain there.

"Yeah, but… she wasn’t the teasing sort."

Hyunjin just hummed in response, letting the chain drop back against Jeongin’s skin and gathering up his things. "I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a mo."

"Ok." Jeongin sat on his bed as the bathroom door clicked shut, letting his fingertips linger on the chain. He’d never had friends like this back home; not so strange, or so funny, or so kind. Not the sort to read each other stories, curling up together by candlelight.

Not the sort he thought might become his family.

But he did now, he thought to himself, staring vaguely at the light spilling from beneath the bathroom door.

And from the way they laughed with him, teased him gently, included him in all their little rituals, he thought that they might just think of him as family, too.

* * *

The next night-time power cut happened barely a week later; Jeongin had been working on assignment in his bed, headphones around his neck as he listened to the wind stirring in the chimneys and running over the roof tiles as though about to dive to the ground. It was a good environment to work in, he found, the growing storm outside cocooning him somehow, heightening his focus.

But the lights went out without warning, the wind blowing them away and out into the hills as will-o-the-wisps, and Jeongin was left only with the white-blue glow of his laptop.

Setting it down carefully on his bed, he wandered out to the atrium in search of the others. He hadn’t seen Chan all day, now that he thought about it, and he wasn’t entirely sure what would happen in his absence.

"Hey," Felix said out of the dark. "That was sudden."

"Yeah," Jeongin agreed softly. "Is Chan around?"

"Nah, he’s with Minho tonight. That leaves us to our own devices, pretty much." He sighed heavily. "Not that I’m going to be able to get much sketching done like this. Have you seen Changbin around?"

"Sorry," Jeongin replied. "Not a clue."

"He’s down on the ground floor," a voice said from the door, and Jeongin jolted, heart hammering, until he realised that Hyunjin had been the one to speak.

"What’s he doing there?" Felix mumbled, and Jeongin thought that Hyunjin might have shrugged in the following pause. "I’ll see you guys later."

"Don’t fall down the stairs," Hyunjin told him casually, and Felix’s laugh faded as he left the room. "Dorian; fancy an adventure?"

Jeongin turned back to their darkened bedroom, his laptop screen still shining like a beacon from his bed. He didn’t have much charge left. Not enough to finish his assignment, at least. "Sure," he agreed, and he imagined that Hyunjin smiled at him through the dark.

"Fantastic. Let’s get wine." Jeongin watched Hyunjin move into their room, features lit up for a moment by the cold electric light from his screen. He disappeared behind the door, leaving an icy space in the doorway before he emerged with a bottle clutched in one hand. With the other, he took hold of Jeongin’s, pulling him out of the dorm before he could even turn off his laptop.

"What is it with you and red wine?" Jeongin asked as Hyunjin led him in a direction he hadn’t expected.

"You like it, don’t you?" Hyunjin asked.

"I mean- I guess so."

"There you have it. I do have vodka, but I thought that might be a bit much for you." Jeongin laughed, hearing Hyunjin join in softly as they reached the end of a landing, Hyunjin leaning down to fiddle with the lock on a door Jeongin could only barely make out in the light from a nearby window. "Hey, hold the lighter for me so I can see? It’s in my pocket."

"Sure." Jeongin reached into Hyunjin’s jacket pocket, pushing aside books and candle stubs until his fingertips found smooth metal. Pulling the lighter free, he flicked his thumb over the sparkwheel until a flame appeared, lighting up Hyunjin’s fingers around the lock.

"Thanks," Hyunjin murmured, pushing a hairpin carefully into it. "They keep relocking it, and I don’t know where they keep the key to make a copy."

Jeongin decided not to ask how Hyunjin knew how to pick a lock in the first place.

"There we go! Come on." Taking his hand again, Hyunjin led Jeongin up a spiral staircase, the stone walls cold where the back of his hand brushed against them. He could hear the wind, louder than it had been, and it took him a moment to realise that Hyunjin was taking him up to the tower.

"I’ve never brought anyone up here," Hyunjin admitted as dim storm-light began to perfuse the staircase. They must be nearing the top, Jeongin thought. "But I thought it would be an entertaining way to spend the evening."

Jeongin didn’t reply as they ascended the final few stairs. He was too busy looking around the space Hyunjin had brought him to; the roof higher than was reasonable for the size of the room, eaves strung with cobwebs; windows that made the clouds seem close enough that Jeongin could reach and pull the rain from them; candle stubs stuck to the floor in pools of their own wax like stalagmites.

Hyunjin moved close as he stood, opening his hand and taking the lighter from it. "Come on," he said, holding out a lit candle he’d wrenched from the floor. "Use this to light some of the others."

Jeongin did as he was told, circling the little room until it glowed gold, flames flickering as the wind raged on outside. There must be a hole in the roof, he thought, or a crack in a windowpane, because he and the candles shivered with every gust.

"And there we have it," Hyunjin said, smiling as he looked around. The faint breeze ruffled his hair and his jacket, candlelight clinging close to his ankles, and Jeongin just nodded, unsure of how to speak when Hyunjin looked at him like that. "Sit down. I want to sketch you."

"Haven’t you gotten bored of my face yet?" Jeongin joked, and Hyunjin just shook his head, pencil meeting the page of the sketchbook he’d pulled from his pocket. After a few minutes, he opened the wine, taking a swig before passing it across the small space. Even with their knees bent, their legs were crossed and interlocking, Jeongin distracting Hyunjin from his sketches by gently nudging Hyunjin’s raised knee with his own.

"Ok, ok," Hyunjin conceded eventually, laughing and putting his pencil down. "You’re bored, Dorian. Shall we…" he paused, tapping his chin in mockery of thoughtfulness. "Shall we do questions again? It’s been a while."

Jeongin thought about it for a moment; he hadn’t really been bored, if he was honest, happy with his own thoughts and the storm outside, interrupted occasionally by the weight of Hyunjin’s gaze as he looked up to reassess the way the light fell on him. But perhaps some conversation would be nice, on a night like this.

"I think we know each other a good deal better than we did last time," he pointed out, and Hyunjin shrugged.

"There’s always more to find out. You up for it?"

"...Sure." He reached out, taking the wine from Hyunjin, their fingers brushing as he did so. When he raised it to his lips, he found some faint taste there beyond that of the wine, but it wasn’t anything he could place. "Childhood disasters?"

"Fell off a swing," Hyunjin answered immediately. "Rolled all the way down the hill and landed in a stream. I still have a scar on my arm from a rock that cut me."

"Ouch."

"Yup." Hyunjin took back the wine, and Jeongin watched him tilt his head back as he drank, hair falling soft down the back of his neck, Adam’s apple pushing against his skin. "Hm… if we’re going with childhood… worst nightmare you had as a kid."

"A weird recurring one," Jeongin replied after a moment of thought, "about our gardener. He had a false eye, and I’d always dream of it rolling into my room and watching me."

Hyunjin laughed too loudly for the space, competing with the wind for a moment as the candle flames shied away from him. "That does sound scary. Poor little Jeongin."

"Shut up," Jeongin said fondly, and Hyunjin just smiled.

They carried on like that for a while, sharing ridiculous stories from their childhood along with the wine, until the bottle was almost empty, candles burning down low.

Hyunjin sighed, holding it up to the light. "We should have brought two bottles," he lamented. "We’ve only got one good question left in this."

"Better make it count," Jeongin warned him. "It’s your turn, after all."

Hyunjin’s gaze settled somehow, dark eyes gaining a weight that they hadn’t held before. Somehow, Jeongin almost thought he could feel the phantom of Hyunjin’s hand in his own as their eyes met. But Hyunjin broke eye contact, and slowly, he tipped back the wine bottle, letting the last drops roll onto his tongue.

"Have you," he asked, setting the bottle down with a dull  _ thud _ , "ever kissed anyone?"

Jeongin hesitated for a moment, a little surprised by the question; it was a turn from the lighthearted tales they’d been exchanging. Or perhaps it wasn’t, if he thought about it; wasn’t this just another part of his childhood, anyway? Silly things that happened in his old school, when he was still barely into his adolescence.

"Yes," he replied. "One of the girls in my class when I was fourteen. It was a dare."

"Not your friend?" Hyunjin asked, gesturing with his pencil to the chain about Jeongin’s neck.

"No. Not her."

Hyunjin just stayed silent, apparently waiting for more of a story, and Jeongin turned away, blushing a little at the memory. "It was pretty awkward. Her friends had dared her to do it, and my friends had dared me, and… we found out after that they were all watching from behind the equipment stores. Heard them laughing." He shrugged. "It wasn’t much of a kiss, I guess."

Hyunjin nodded slowly, eyes still steady and bright as he listened, lounging back against the wall. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and Jeongin wondered if he was waiting for yet more details. But then he shifted just as the wind changed direction, one or the other of them stirring the candles, and met Jeongin’s eyes again.

"Have you ever kissed a boy?" he asked softly, and the wind seemed to drop, the storm pausing to listen quietly for Jeongin’s reply.

_ That’s another question _ , Jeongin thought about saying.  _ There’s no more wine, the game is over. _

"No," he said instead, the word barely audible, clinging to his tongue as though he were unsure if it were the right answer. "I haven’t."

And he watched as Hyunjin leaned forwards in the small space, folding his legs under him so that he was kneeling almost between Jeongin’s thighs; his palm settled on Jeongin’s cheek with a certainty Jeongin didn’t think he’d ever felt, his other hand bracing on the floor by Jeongin’s hip.

For a moment, nothing happened. Perhaps it was a joke, Jeongin thought, Hyunjin teasing him again, playing off his innocence. Perhaps he would retreat in a moment, laugh and call him Dorian, pick up his sketchbook again and act as thought nothing had happened.

But something in the gravity of Hyunjin’s gaze told him he was wrong, so he waited, unsure whether to push him gently away.

Hyunjin kissed him before he could decide.

It wasn’t a long kiss, nor a particularly intense one; just a kiss, sweet and surprisingly gentle compared to the depths Jeongin had seen in Hyunjin’s eyes. The taste on the neck of the wine bottle had been Hyunjin’s lip balm, Jeongin realised as he returned the kiss without thinking, slick and scented with honey, and the realisation set his heart hammering against his sternum, dizziness lifting him out of his body for a moment.

But Hyunjin pulled away, settling back against the wall with a slight smile, and Jeongin did his best to compose himself enough to listen to what he was saying.

"There," he said nonchalantly. "Now you have."

It took Jeongin a moment to remember where the conversation had been before that would warrant such a comment.  _ You've kissed a boy,  _ some distant part of his mind told him.  _ He asked you if you'd ever kissed a boy. _

"Yeah," Jeongin managed to agree. "I guess I have." He resisted the urge to lick away the last of Hyunjin’s lip balm, unsure of why he wanted to do so at all. He didn’t really wear lip balm, he rationalised. The sensation of having it there was strange.

Without warning, the lower edges of the windows lit up yellow, and a cheer rose up from the school below them, a discord against the howl of the wind. "I guess the power came back on," Hyunjin remarked, and Jeongin nodded slightly. He was shaking a little, he realised, and he did his best to hide it. "Well, we’re out of wine anyway," Hyunjin continued with a sigh. "Want to head back down?"

"Yeah," Jeongin said faintly. "I had… I had an assignment."

"Oh, I’ll stay out of the dorm if you want to work," Hyunjin offered as he blew out the candles that were cemented to the floor and picked up their empty bottle. "I need to help Jisung and Changbin with something."

"Oh?" Jeongin asked, taking the hand Hyunjin offered and getting to his feet. Somehow, he was more aware of the lack of distance between them when Hyunjin pulled him up, and he stepped away quickly. If Hyunjin noticed, he didn’t say anything.

"A surprise for Felix. It’s his and Changbin’s anniversary soon. Changbin wanted to do a big old fashioned star chart for him."

"That’s cute," Jeongin managed to say. His heart was still hammering in his chest, the sensation of the lip balm heavy on his mouth.  _ He just surprised you _ , he told himself.  _ With the kiss. You were just surprised. _

He purposely skipped over the memory of Hyunjin hovering there, palm against his skin, giving him time to process exactly what he was going to do.

"Yeah. You know those two have been dating in secret since they were fifteen?" Hyunjin explained as they clattered down the stairs. "Took a fair bit of wrangling to get their parents to send them both here."

It took Jeongin a moment to think of a reply, still thrown from how quickly the situation had turned. "Romantic, I guess."

"Yeah," Hyunjin agreed quietly. "It is. Meant to be, those two."

Jeongin didn’t know how to respond to the slight tone of melancholy in Hyunjin’s voice, heavy and dolorous as distant church bells, so he did his best to change the subject. "You don’t have to stay out of our room," he told him. "I can probably work with you there." It was a lie. Jeongin couldn’t focus around Hyunjin at the best of times, let alone now; he raised his fingers to touch his lips without thinking, and forced himself to lower them.  _ Stop thinking about it. He just surprised you. _

Hyunjin waved the wine bottle airily. "No, no. Do your work. We’d only just started sketching, there’s plenty for me to do down there."

They parted ways in the corridor, Hyunjin passing Jeongin the empty wine bottle to rinse out and tuck beneath his bed for the next time Seungmin had a bad day. The stairwells were surprisingly busy, a mixture of dark uniforms and pyjamas flooding up and down, and Jeongin lost sight of his friend almost immediately. He felt oddly lonely without him, he realised as he collapsed onto his bed, plugging his laptop in and hoping it would reopen his document where he’d left off when it turned itself back on. He supposed that was what happened when you spent quite as much time with someone as he did with Hyunjin.

He pulled at his lower lip with his teeth as he considered the evening, the taste of honey delicate on his tongue. Hyunjin had kissed him. It hadn’t meant anything, had been part of a wine-fuelled game, but Hyunjin had  _ kissed _ him.

And Jeongin hadn’t particularly wanted him to stop.

It was just surprise, he told himself again. He’d had no time to react, no time to decide whether or not to play along.

But that didn’t explain the way his heartbeat had quickened in a way it hadn’t when he’d kissed his classmate at the age of fourteen; she had been pretty, and funny, and her lip balm had been strawberry; she’d put some on just before he kissed her, he remembered. But Jeongin hadn’t thought about their kiss afterwards. Hadn’t pressed his fingers to the pulse point on his wrist as he was doing now, wondering why his blood was rushing so.

Yet again, he did his best to rationalise. It had been a strange moment. He’d had half a bottle of wine, after all. Of course he’d react to someone so lovely as Hyunjin kissing him. It wasn’t like he wanted it to happen again. Did he?

Did he want Hyunjin to kiss him again?

_Half a bottle of wine_ , he told himself again as he hovered on the precipice of the decision, the memory of the sensation of Hyunjin’s lips still too clear in his mind. _Forget about your assignment, sleep it off, and be back to normal by morning._

But sleep didn’t come easily, even with the lullaby of the wind; and when he felt Hyunjin climb into bed beside him, Jeongin forwent sleeping altogether in favour of just considering the warmth of his skin, and the taste of honey and wine.


	4. poe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to everyone who had a massive crush on fictional characters of the same sex as child but didn't realise until years later that it was actually a crush... if only we'd known.
> 
> TW for an in-depth discussion of the past suicide attempt tag in this chapter, starting when Jeongin goes outside to talk with Chan.
> 
> Next update Sunday <3

Despite telling himself that it had been a joke, that his reaction had been nothing more than a product of intoxication and atmosphere, Jeongin couldn’t quite find a way to go back to normal after that night in the tower.

It plagued him somehow, taking his focus during the day, mind returning again and again to the way Hyunjin had looked at him in the moments before their kiss, palm warm against his cheek. It became difficult to focus if Hyunjin was in the room with him, some part of him always analysing the distance between them, working into a frenzy if Hyunjin took his hand. Jeongin didn’t have the faintest clue how to make it stop; he’d never reacted to anything quite like this, never obsessed, never spent hours overthinking a single smile, a brush of skin.

He even dreamed of the kiss more than once; of Hyunjin pressing closer, kissing him harder, leaving him to wake in a sweat with the taste of honey fading from his mouth.

"Do you want me to sleep in my own bed?" Hyunjin asked once after Jeongin almost fell asleep at breakfast, knife clattering to his plate as he dropped it. "You’re tired lately."

"Yeah, you fell asleep on my legs in the art studio the other day," Changbin commented. "I felt too bad to move you."

"Sorry," Jeongin mumbled.

"No, it’s not a problem for us," Seungmin said, taking Jeongin’s knife and spreading marmalade over his toast for him. He seemed to have taken note of Jeongin’s switch from eating honey, unable to stand the taste of it anymore, and Jeongin felt his heart warm a little at the gesture. "We’re just worried." Jeongin did his best to smile at him. Seungmin always seemed to end up fretting unnecessarily when any member of their dorm got even slightly unwell; if Jeongin thought about it, Seungmin and Jisung had been around him more often lately, dragging him to the library or obscure areas of the school where Seungmin wanted to take photographs. Jeongin must be looking unhealthy enough that Seungmin felt the need to keep him close.

"I’m fine, just… I don’t know. Waking up in the night a lot." Jeongin took a bite of his toast, watching Seungmin relax minutely as he did so.

"Then yes, Hyunjin, you should start sleeping in your own bed," Jisung said gently. "Stop bothering him in the night."

"I don’t bother him!" Hyunjin protested. "I can just see the sunrise better from that angle."

Felix snorted. "Sure. I’m guessing he’s a hugger, right Jeongin?"

Jeongin nodded, and Hyunjin dropped his spoon, leaning dramatically back in his chair. "Betrayal. You’re all awful. It’s just a matter of time before you cut me to pieces and bury me beneath the floor, isn’t it?"

"That’s so specific," Changbin muttered, and Felix laughed, eyes soft with adoration for him as usual.

"Come on. You must have read that one," Hyunjin exclaimed, leaning over the table to talk to Changbin.

Jeongin missed the next part of the conversation, distracted by Jisung shuffling closer and placing a hand over his own. "You’re really ok?" he asked.

Jeongin hesitated. Perhaps he could talk about this with Jisung. Not the details of it, of course, but… something. "Can I talk to you later?" he whispered. "Just… about stuff."

"Yeah, of course. Anything." Jisung squeezed Jeongin’s hand gently, and returned to stealing blueberries off Seungmin’s plate. Jeongin didn’t miss the way Seungmin picked up his spoon, pushing a few stray berries over to Jisung’s side of the plate. Perhaps Jeongin could have talked to him, too. But maybe Seungmin would be too curious, he thought, would push a little more than he wanted. Jisung wouldn’t. Jisung would just listen.

* * *

They found themselves alone in the early afternoon; Jisung had obviously been looking for him, knocking softly on the door of the music room where he was practising scales.

"Hey," he asked from the doorway. "Is now a good time?"

"Yeah," Jeongin said after a moment. "I guess it is."

Laying down his violin, he sat cross-legged on the floor, watching Jisung do the same. For a while, neither of them said anything; Jisung’s eyes were wide and patient, and Jeongin took several deep breaths before he managed to speak. He had to ask. Because he thought he might know, really, what it meant that he’d reacted the way he had to Hyunjin. He thought he understood why he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss up in the tower.

"How did you-" he began, and then paused. He closed his eyes. "How did you figure out that you were gay?"

Jisung was silent for a moment, and Jeongin opened his eyes, hoping he wasn’t about to be interrogated. But Jisung just smiled, a little sadly, and picked at his nails. "Now, that’s one hell of a question." He sighed, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the ceiling. "I guess I wasn’t… I wasn’t really allowed many friends, growing up. My parents didn’t like people talking to me. I guess they were kind of worried I’d tell someone how I was being treated. Not that I… not that I really knew it wasn’t right."

He bit his lip, hard enough that Jeongin thought that it might bleed, before he continued. "But I was allowed to watch a  _ lot  _ of TV. They kind of used it to keep me occupied since I didn’t have anyone to talk to, you know? And I would watch a lot of Sailor Moon, and…" he laughed, seeming a little embarrassed. "I had like… a  _ thing _ for Tuxedo Mask. Like I’d sit and draw him, I’d rewatch scenes with him in, I’d sit in bed at night and imagine him just… bringing me dinner. If I hadn’t eaten, I’d just daydream about him appearing on my balcony with a plate of whatever my parents had been eating. Even if I knew, even back then, that I’d feel guilty eating it, even if I knew I wouldn’t be able to, I’d just… imagine that. As a character, he was someone my mind just… fixated on, I guess. And then I started reading, and other characters took his place. Male characters that were always safe and strong and good and I just… I fell in love with them all a little bit. I didn’t really realise that was what it was, though, I just… I thought they were my saviours. I never questioned why."

He smiled, expression uncontrollably fond, and Jeongin thought he knew what was coming. "And then I got sent here. And I met Seungmin. And he was safe, and strong, and good, and I went head over heels before I really put a name to what I was feeling. So I guess, in answer to your question… It took me a long while to figure it out. But the signs were always there, and I really should have seen it sooner."

He looked up, and Jeongin guessed what his question was going to be. "Do you think… do you think that you might be gay, Jeongin?"

"I don’t know," Jeongin whispered. It was a lie. He was almost certain at this point, if he was honest, but something in him didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to decide.  _ It’s not a decision, _ some small voice in his head told him.  _ The only decision you’re making is to deny it _ .

Because he’d always felt this way, hadn’t he? He’d never taken interest in girls in the way his friends had, had always struggled to look away from particularly handsome boys in his classes, had been scared to approach them in a light, fluttering way.

"Jeongin." Jisung reached for his hands. "It doesn’t matter if you are, ok? I don’t know what opinions your family might have on it, but it’s ok. It doesn’t matter what they think of you. I need you to believe that." His eyes were so wide, so imploring, that Jeongin felt it in his chest like a physical ache. If he was honest, he didn’t know what his parents would think if he came out to them. He’d never done anything unconventional before.

"I know," he said softly, offering Jisung a slight smile. "I just… don’t know what to do if I  _ am _ gay."

"You don’t have to do anything. I mean, if there’s someone you like, then… you can go for it if you want." Jisung tilted his head. "I mean- is there? Is that what’s making you think about this?"

He could say it then, Jeongin realised as he sat on the floor of the music room, Jisung’s hands a little cold around his own.  _ Hyunjin kissed me _ .  _ Hyunjin kissed me and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and I can’t eat honey anymore because it tastes like him and I’ve thought he was beautiful since the first moment I met him- and I think I want him to kiss me again. _ Jisung wouldn’t tell anyone. Jisung wouldn’t treat Hyunjin any differently because of it.

"I don’t- I don’t think I’m ready to talk about that," he said instead, and Jisung just smiled softly.

"That’s ok. I’m here if you do want to talk about it, ok?" His smile grew broader. "Literally everyone in our dorm is gay or bi or pan. We’re always happy to talk about boys."

"Won’t Seungmin get annoyed if you talk about other guys?"

Jisung shook his head. "Nah. He knows I’d never  _ do  _ anything. Plus, he’s worse than me for it. Can’t bloody watch Netflix without him falling in love with every pretty boy on screen." Jeongin laughed, and Jisung’s expression softened. "There it is. You haven’t been smiling much lately."

"Sorry."

"Hey, it’s ok. Just… this isn’t the end of the world, you know? If you’re gay. I know it might feel like something pretty big, and I guess it’s been worrying you enough to stop you from sleeping, but… by realising it, you’re just coming closer to being who you’re meant to be."

"Thanks, Jisung," Jeongin said softly. He meant it. The conversation had left him feeling more settled, somehow, even if his worries weren’t entirely resolved. He could think on them, he supposed. Just perhaps not in the middle of the night.

"You ok for me to go? I’ll stay if you want."

"No, it’s ok. I wanted to practise more. I’ll see you later."

"Yeah. And I mean it when I say that I'll talk about this with you as much as you want, Jeongin. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Have fun practising." He stood, pausing for a moment as he often did when he got up too fast, and threw Jeongin a final smile before heading for the door.

Jeongin watched it close behind him, listening for the soft click as it shut.  _ You don’t have to do anything, _ Jisung had told him.  _ You’re just coming closer to being who you’re meant to be _ .

Feeling the words settle into his bones, quiet and grounding, Jeongin picked up his violin.

* * *

November passed slowly, a blur of power cuts and violin sonatas and cold, cold days spent up in the tower with Hyunjin. He seemed to want to draw Jeongin more often than he wanted to speak to him when he dragged him up there, stealing him away from his lessons and leading him up the stairs, so Jeongin used the time to work through the reading list he’d accumulated from the recommendations of his dorm mates. Chan had suggested The Tell-Tale Heart, and Jeongin had read the stories out of order, saving the longest until last.

"Hey, Hyunjin," he asked, examining the first page. "Do you know any French?"

"Yeah, I’m pretty fluent," he replied, looking up from his sketchbook, and Jeongin forgot for a moment what he had been going to ask Hyunjin to translate.

"You’re fluent? As in, you properly speak French?"

Hyunjin laughed, eyes taking on that teasing light that they so often did. "Yeah. The last school my parents sent me to was in France. I had to learn pretty fast."

"Wait, they- they sent you to France when you didn’t know any French?"

He watched Hyunjin shrug, a little of the light leaving his eyes. Perhaps it had been the wrong thing to ask. Not many people in the dorm seemed to like talking about their families, Jeongin had noticed, and now that he thought about it, he’d never even heard Hyunjin  _ mention _ his before.

"Anyway- could you translate this for me?" he asked, wanting to interrupt Hyunjin’s odd, unsettled melancholy.

"Read it out?"

Jeongin looked at the words, the letters he didn’t know how to pronounce in combination with each other. "I really can’t."

Hyunjin snorted, shuffling across the small space and sitting hip-to-hip with Jeongin, leaning into his space, long fingers splayed across the page to hold it open. Jeongin stopped breathing, trying his best not to turn, knowing Hyunjin was close enough that Jeongin’s nose would brush his cheek. But Hyunjin hummed, and Jeongin turned just a little without thinking, taking in the shape of Hyunjin’s profile while he waited for him to speak; the slope of his nose wasn’t as smooth as Jeongin had expected, a very slight hook marring the line of it. It was still beautiful, Jeongin decided. Everything about Hyunjin was beautiful.

"His heart is a suspended lute," Hyunjin murmured, and Jeongin’s gaze fell to his mouth against his will, watching him form the words, feeling them fall sweet as honey in the autumn air. "As soon as one touches it, it resonates. That’s what it says. Pretty, don’t you think?"

It took Jeongin a moment to realise he’d been asked a question, and he turned quickly back to the book. "Yeah," he said softly, finally taking in the words. "It is."

"The Fall of the House of Usher, huh?" Hyunjin asked, leaning his head back against the wall and pulling his hand from the book. He didn’t move back to his side of the room, and Jeongin wondered if Hyunjin could hear his heartbeat in the slivers of quiet between them.

"Chan recommended it to me," Jeongin managed to tell him. "Well, he recommended Poe. I’ve read a few others."

"I always liked it," Hyunjin murmured, and Jeongin wondered if he’d been listening at all. "The idea that a house, a family, could so easily collapse and crumble. It seemed so easy back then." He reached out again, caressing the page slightly, and there was something in his movements, a sorrow, a darkness strong enough that Jeongin pulled the book away and closed it, hiding the page from his view.   


"I’m getting kind of cold," he lied. "Can we hang out somewhere else for the rest of today?"

It took Hyunjin a moment to respond, apparently shaking off the last of whatever shadow had fallen over him. "Aw, you want to keep spending time with me? Sweet of you."

"Do you- do you not want to?"

Hyunjin reached for Jeongin’s hand, lacing their fingers together. "Of course I do, Dorian," he said, and the words were perhaps too soft to be teasing. "I always want to spend time with you. Come on, I know somewhere we can go."

Jeongin followed as Hyunjin pulled him through the corridors, down and down and down through the school until they reached the basement.

"You know, it’s a good thing we weren’t drinking today," Jeongin pointed out, "or I’d think you were trying to Cask of Amontillado me."

"I would  _ never _ _,"_ Hyunjin said, hand over his heart in mock offense. "My days would get infinitely more boring if you were walled up in a basement."

The art classroom was occupied, and Hyunjin made a show of dramatically crawling past the door. Jeongin did his best not to laugh, not wanting to disturb the class, but something about Hyunjin’s smile as he beckoned for him to follow was enough to pull the sound from him, hand clapped over his mouth so that no one would hear.

He stopped laughing once Hyunjin opened the door to the darkroom.

"Seungmin finished up most of his stuff in here last week," Hyunjin told him softly in the red light as the door swung shut behind them. "And no one else really uses it."

"It’s… I’ve never been anywhere like this," Jeongin murmured.

"Do you not like it?"

"No, I do, it’s just… strange. In a good way." He wandered down the row of tables nearest to them, running his fingertips over the surface. The room was larger than he’d expected, the dim, red light cutting right through to the back corners, and there was something about the smell of it all that he couldn’t quite place; it was acrid and harsh, in an oddly aromatic way. As though someone had sprayed perfume onto hot metal.

"I wish it were a little brighter," Hyunjin said from behind him. "The light falls across you nicely here."

"Don’t you have enough sketches of me?" Jeongin asked, turning to face him. He was closer than he’d expected, having followed him silently along the row of tables.

"Not really," Hyunjin said softly, reaching out to touch Jeongin’s cheek. "And not looking like this."

"You should look in a mirror," Jeongin managed to say, distracted by the slight point of contact. "In here, I mean. If you think  _ I _ look good in this light, then you should see yourself, because..." he trailed off, unsure of how to respond to the shine in Hyunjin’s eyes. He really did look  _ perfect _ in the strange light of the darkroom, every feature sharpened and shaded by the red. It was a little hard to bear.

"Because what?" Hyunjin asked in a whisper.

"Because you’re beautiful," Jeongin said, barely audible. "You’re just- you’re beautiful, Hyunjin."

And Hyunjin shifted, just barely moving closer as though testing the waters, trying to find some clarity in what Jeongin was telling him, trying to find the meaning he wanted.

He’d move away if Jeongin didn’t react soon, he knew. Would let the moment pass them by, adding to the list of strange, unspoken things that lay between them in the dark of their dorm room when Hyunjin climbed into Jeongin’s bed.

So Jeongin kissed him.

He didn’t fully know what he was doing; their last kiss hadn’t been long, hadn’t given him much time to learn anything apart from the taste of Hyunjin’s lip balm. But Hyunjin reacted quickly enough that Jeongin thought that he had maybe been right, that this was exactly what Hyunjin had wanted when he stepped just that little bit closer into Jeongin’s space; Jeongin could feel the warmth of Hyunjin’s palm through his shirt as a hand settled on his waist underneath his jacket, long fingers in his hair, the taste of honey almost sickly sweet against the chemical smell of the darkroom.

He couldn’t say how long that kiss lasted; how many times he had thought it was over only for Hyunjin to lean in again, Jeongin’s back lightly hitting the wall as Hyunjin pushed him back against it. It was an oddly gentle motion, Hyunjin careful and cautious, hands settling back on Jeongin’s waist as though he were made of porcelain.

"I think I’m gay," Jeongin whispered once they broke apart for long enough that he could speak.

Hyunjin laughed just a little, breath soft against Jeongin’s cheek. "I really should hope so. I’m not sure how I feel about kissing a straight boy." He leaned back, gaze scanning over Jeongin’s features. "You know, maybe I should paint you."

"That’s what you’re thinking about right now?" Jeongin asked, trying not to laugh. This was just so  _ Hyunjin _ .

"I mean, among other things," Hyunjin teased, and something in the tone of it unsettled Jeongin just a little.

"I know-" he began hesitantly, and Hyunjin’s brows lifted in surprise at the softness of his words. "I know you’ve probably done this more than I have, and… I guess other people have been better kissers, and-"

"Oh, Jeongin. No. That’s not it at all." He leaned in, kissing Jeongin more softly than he had before. "Trust me, I’m not... I mean sure, maybe you haven’t had the most practice, but we can get to that, can’t we?" His thumb brushed lightly over Jeongin’s ribs through his shirt, and Jeongin shivered. "I just want to preserve you. I want to see you like this forever. I think a painting is a good way to do that, don’t you?"

Jeongin managed a laugh. "I think if Oscar Wilde taught us anything, shouldn’t it be that trying to preserve someone’s essence in a painting is a  _ bad  _ idea?"

"Oh, but what kind of students would we be if we  _ learned _ from the classics rather than hopelessly imitating them?" Hyunjin pointed out with a grin, and Jeongin laughed until Hyunjin pulled him in for another kiss, the taste of honey shared between them in the cherry-tinted dark.

* * *

Jeongin went back to the dorm alone that afternoon; Hyunjin had been scheduled for an English Literature lesson that he actually wanted to go to, and had disappeared towards the west wing of the school; not before pulling Jeongin into an alcove in the corridor and kissing him goodbye, leaving him alone in the shadows as he ran off with a bright, brilliant smile.

He licked the last of the taste of honey from his lips as he walked up the last of the stairs, unable to stop himself from smiling. He’d kissed Hyunjin. And Hyunjin had kissed him back with an enthusiasm that surprised him.

Jeongin’s heart sank a little as he thought of what this meant for his relationship with his parents. Coming out to them, let alone telling them he had a boyfriend, was something he’d never thought he’d have to do. He’d never heard them be openly homophobic, but perhaps it had just never quite come up in conversation. He supposed he’d found out if they were.

Chan was sitting alone in the atrium when he arrived, scribbling on the page of a book Jeongin couldn’t identify. He glanced up when Jeongin arrived, eyebrows rising. "What happened to your hair?" he asked, and Jeongin flushed as he remembered Hyunjin’s fingers tangling through it.

"Hyunjin," he answered vaguely, and Chan gave him a long look. For a moment, Jeongin thought he knew exactly what had happened, as though Hyunjin had left some kind of mark over his mouth.

"How is he?" he asked eventually, and Jeongin felt himself relax a little. "You two are mostly sequestered away together, I don’t see either of you that often."

"Sorry."

"Nothing to apologise for. I’m glad you’ve found someone you like spending time with." He patted the sofa beside him, and Jeongin sat down slowly, feeling a little like he was being examined in some regard. "So, how are you both? What’s the book?"

"Oh, it’s the one you recommended for me. Edgar Allan Poe."

Chan’s expression lit up a little. "How are you finding it?"

"I like it!" Jeongin replied honestly. "I like the way he writes. Actually…" he paused, unsure of whether to mention this or not. "Hyunjin had kind of a strange reaction to one of the stories. The Fall of the House of Usher."

Chan frowned. "Really? What did he say?"

"That he liked the idea that a family could fall so easily," Jeongin said, looking down at the cover of the book. It was a slender volume with a modern binding, and he found he somewhat missed the texture of the leather Shakespeare volume under his fingertips. "He said… he said something about it seeming easy back then. I didn’t really understand what he meant."

When he looked up, Chan’s expression had darkened. Jeongin didn’t particularly like it when Chan looked like that; there was a kind of gravity to him, with something bubbling beneath the surface that Jeongin didn’t think he wanted to meet.

" Come take a walk with me?" he asked quietly, and Jeongin nodded without questioning. It was probably better to do as Chan asked.

The November air was icy and scented with rain, and Jeongin shivered a little as it settled on his skin like mist. He followed as Chan led him round the back of the school, to a little walled garden with an empty, lichen encrusted fountain.

"Can’t see this place from any of the windows," he explained as he pulled a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Supplied by Minho, Jeongin supposed. "I’d offer you one, but I really don’t want to get you started on nicotine when I think Hyunjin’s probably dragging you slowly into alcoholism anyway."

"He doesn’t drink  _ that _ much," Jeongin argued gently, and Chan smiled.

"No," he acknowledged. "Nowhere near as much as he used to." He sighed, taking a long drag of his cigarette, and Jeongin watched the smoke billow out from his lips into the freezing air. It formed strange, sylphic shapes as it circled towards the sky, melting slowly into the clouds. "Has Hyunjin told you anything about his home life?"

"No. We don’t really talk about it."

"Then don’t tell him that I’ve told you, ok?"

Jeongin hesitated, but something in the gravity of Chan’s attitude told him that he should agree. "...Ok."

"Hyunjin," Chan said slowly, "is in a fairly common position. His purpose to his family is to be an heir to their money, not to be a son. I’m the same, really." He sighed, breathing out more smoke. "But I have siblings. I told my parents that I wasn’t interested in inheriting the family business, and they weren’t  _ happy _ about it. They carted me off here so they could train up my sister. But I had that option, you know?"

"And Hyunjin didn’t?" Jeongin asked, and Chan nodded.

"As an only child, he’s stuck. And it’s not my place to tell you the exact details he’s told me, but I don’t think his parents have  _ ever _ treated him like their kid. Just as a vessel to throw their money into one day." He tilted his head back, looking up at the mottled white and grey clouds covering the sky. It would start to rain soon, Jeongin thought, and he somehow felt that Chan would care more for the safety of his cigarette than for his own health if that were the case.

"Last Christmas," Chan continued slowly, "it… got too much for him. The way he was being treated. Combined with reading that-" he gestured with his cigarette to the book in Jeongin’s hands, a little ash falling like snow in the space between them- "which got the idea into his head of wiping out a family. A name. A dynasty. It’s a bad combination, spite and misery. Leads to rash actions." He sighed, and lapsed into silence for a long moment, apparently considering how to phrase his next words. "Hyunjin’s father takes digoxin for his heart," he said eventually. "Digitalis, taken from the foxglove plant. Very deadly in the wrong dosage."

Jeongin felt his eyes widen. He didn’t like where this was going.

"Hyunjin stole the bottle from his father’s medicine cabinet," Chan explained quietly. "He overdosed. We almost didn’t get him back next term."

"He- just to spite his family?" Jeongin asked, trying to process what Chan was saying. "To make sure they didn’t have an heir?"

"Partially. Like I said, misery was a good part of it. You can only handle that sort of treatment for so long, really, before you crack, and Hyunjin… I don’t know if it was being here that did it. For once in his life, someone was showing him real, genuine affection and interest..."

"And then he had to leave you all," Jeongin finished softly. "He had to go back to people who didn’t care."

"Exactly. And he knew it would hurt them, in a sense. Perhaps not an emotional one, but… there’s no uncles or aunts, just lines of only children going a long way back. If the one heir died, all the money they’ve spent generations collecting, just…" Chan blew out more smoke, and Jeongin watched it dissipate into the air.

"I can see why he thought it would be a good revenge," Jeongin admitted unhappily. The thought of it made him feel a little sick, if he was honest; the idea of Hyunjin, dead and buried and rotting in cold earth, just because he felt it was his only way to win. The thought that worms eating away at the soft flesh of his eyes had been the image of victory to Hyunjin back then.

"You know," Chan told him, "I fucking  _ hated _ him going up into that tower last year. Thought he was going to try something. Seungmin, especially, would just panic every time he disappeared up there. But he never tried to jump. Changbin and Felix took to hanging around the lake in case he ever tried anything there, too."

"Did he?" Jeongin asked in a small voice. Chan shook his head.

"Nope. Nothing after that one attempt. Maybe he saw how much we all cared, how fucking terrified we were by the thought we might have lost him. I don’t know. It’s a nice idea, that he stopped because he knows we love him, but... love can’t  _ fix _ a person, Jeongin. We can help, but at the end of the day…" he shrugged. "We can’t fix them."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jeongin asked him. "If Hyunjin didn’t tell me himself."

Chan fixed him with a look, steady and cutting through to his bones. Jeongin was beginning to think he practised that look in the mirror. "Because I think you two are more involved than you’re letting on to anyone," Chan said bluntly. "And because I think you need to know what you’re letting yourself in for. I’m not saying don’t do it, and I’m not saying he’s  _ broken _ , or that he’ll never get better, but you just need to know that he struggles, sometimes, and he might not necessarily tell you."

"What can I do?" Jeongin asked hopelessly, unsure of how to address the fact that Chan obviously knew exactly what was going on between himself and Hyunjin. "If he won’t tell me…"

Chan sighed. "Tricky one. It’s not your place to push him, it’s not your place to… to be his psychiatrist, especially if you two are involved in the way I think you are. It’s really not. But just… be ready, ok? He’ll probably dip after the holidays. I don’t think he’ll get as bad as before, but he won’t be right, and he’ll try to hide it."

"Him and Jisung both, huh?"

Chan snorted. "Most of us, frankly. There’s a reason I’ve already asked Minho’s parents if I can camp out at theirs for a bit after I graduate. Just until I can get on my feet without going back to my family." He turned, looking at Jeongin curiously. "What are your folks like? I’ve never heard you talk about them."

"There’s not much to say," Jeongin admitted softly. "They’re not like Jisung’s. They’re not really like Hyunjin’s. But they don’t… they don’t make much of an effort to get to know me. I think if I gave them a list of random interests and asked them to pick out mine, they’d just put it in their desk drawer, and pat my cheek, and go for a drink rather than actually try to guess who I am as a person. But they’re not  _ malicious _ in any way. Not really."

Chan settled a hand on Jeongin’s knee. "You know that’s not right, though? It might not be openly abusive, sure, but… you know that’s not how parents should treat their kids?"

Jeongin shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "I don’t know," he said. "I turned out ok, right? So it can’t be that bad."

Chan said nothing in response, just looking at Jeongin for a long, long moment with something like pity; an ache of protectiveness too, as though he wanted to keep Jeongin here with him at this strange school, all towers and dark wood corridors and bright, broken boys, and never let him return home.

From somewhere inside, a bell rang. "I’ve got to go," Jeongin mumbled. "I said I’d meet Hyunjin after his class."

He left before Chan could reply, the scent of nicotine clinging close to his jacket as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the halls, leaving the autumn air and thoughts of home behind.

* * *

Hyunjin insisted that they start the painting as soon as possible. "It’s almost Christmas," he had pointed out on one of their excursions to the tower. "Then I have to go an entire month without seeing you."

"I’m sure you won’t miss me  _ that _ much," Jeongin had said, laughing slightly, but something in Hyunjin’s eyes had made his smile fade.

"I will, Dorian," he’d said softly. "Trust me, I will."

"I’ll miss you, too," Jeongin had replied, and Hyunjin had leaned across the space to kiss him slowly, setting Jeongin’s heart soaring.

He  _ would _ miss Hyunjin over Christmas, he realised as he wandered down to the music rooms where the canvas had been set up. He would miss everyone in the dorm. Felix’s sense of humour, always sharper than he expected, tempered by Changbin’s gentleness; the way Seungmin cared so deeply and so openly for his friends; Jisung’s determination, his strength and joy and wonder; even Chan’s odd, cryptic kindness would leave a gap behind.

But then there was Hyunjin. Beautiful, wild Hyunjin who would take Jeongin by the hand as though he never wanted to let go, would pepper kisses to his cheeks and the corners of his lips until he laughed, and call him lovely in a voice so soft that Jeongin couldn’t help but believe it. Who would look at Jeongin like he held the secrets of the universe within his eyes.

He would be alone in his bed at home, Jeongin realised. None of Hyunjin’s warmth beside him, pressed close in a bed made for one. The thought made him more than a little sad.

Hyunjin wasn’t there when he opened the music room door. The easel was set up, ready for him to begin, but the room was quiet, and lonely. Dropping his bag down on the floor, Jeongin headed over to the cupboard where he usually found his violin. He’d play a little, he decided. Just until Hyunjin arrived.

He didn’t hear the door open; just a quiet exhale from behind him as he came to the end of the concerto he’d memorised. Jeongin whirled around, expecting a stranger, but found only Hyunjin standing in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the violin in Jeongin’s hands.

For a moment, they were both silent. "I didn’t know you played," Hyunjin said eventually, and Jeongin shrugged awkwardly.

"I don’t think I’m very good," he admitted. "I didn’t think it was really worth telling anyone about."

"Jeongin…" Hyunjin began, stepping closer and brushing his fingertips over Jeongin’s cheekbone. "That was beautiful. I mean it. You have a gift."

Jeongin felt himself blush. "I don’t- I mean, I practice a lot since I got here, but-"

"Hey," Hyunjin murmured gently. "Just accept a compliment for once, ok? You play wonderfully."

"Ok," Jeongin agreed, laughing a little. "But I can still improve." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, throwing up his hands in mock-despair, and Jeongin pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pushing him away towards the easel. He wasn’t as bold as Hyunjin seemed to be with initiating kisses or affection, but Hyunjin never seemed to mind, apparently content to let Jeongin learn at his own pace.

"Go on," he ordered teasingly. "You’ve got to paint me, remember?"

"I think you should hold the violin," Hyunjin said, head tilted to the side in thought. "As though you were playing it." Jeongin dutifully lifted the violin to his shoulder, settling the bow lightly across the strings, and watched Hyunjin’s eyes light up. "Yes. Just like that. That’s perfect, you look… perfect."

They repeated this routine every day of the last week until Christmas; Jeongin would arrive first to the music room, and play the violin until Hyunjin arrived, art supplies spilling out of his bag.  And little by little, the portrait progressed.

"Where have you two been lately?" Changbin asked as they returned to their dorm on the penultimate day of the term. "No one’s seen you. It’s the last week, we’re supposed to be memorising each others’ faces so we can survive the holiday without any contact."

"Don’t worry," Hyunjin said airily, patting his shoulder. "We’ll be around plenty tomorrow. We’re all hanging out, right?"

"Yup. Dorm day. Not even Chan’s excused from this one." Jeongin must have looked a little confused, because Changbin smiled slightly at him. "We basically just spend all day together in the dorm on the last day of every term. Nothing special, just… hanging out."

"Sounds good," Jeongin said, and Changbin nodded happily.

"It is. Expect carols sung  _ very _ badly." Hyunjin laughed, eyes forming crescents as they did when he was truly, genuinely happy, and Jeongin felt his heart soften a little at the sight. It would be nice, he thought, to spend tomorrow with the people he’d grown to love so dearly. To sing and talk and laugh with them before they disappeared from his life for a little while; only Changbin and Felix maintained contact over the holidays, he’d been told. Most of the others had their phones checked or their letters read, or were worried about their parents finding out that they were friends with certain people. Jeongin had been disappointed by that; he’d like the idea of talking with his friends over the holidays.

But at least he had one more day with them, he decided. Just one more.

* * *

Jeongin awoke on their last day to find the atrium in the process of being brightly decorated, strings of tinsel and paper chains hanging over every wall; a stepladder rested in the corner, and Jeongin wondered which of his friends had stolen it from the caretaker’s cupboard.

"Jeongin!" Felix called brightly. He was in the far corner by the door, holding Jisung on his shoulders as he tried to hang a wreath upon the wall. Jisung was laughing so hard that Jeongin thought he might fall, and Seungmin watched, visibly tense, from the arm of the sofa. "You’re tall. Maybe if you stand on the stepladder you can hang the wreath."

"Yes," Seungmin agreed gratefully. "We should try a different plan." Jeongin smiled at him in sympathy as he picked up the stepladder and moved it to the door, putting it down before gently helping Jisung descend from Felix’s shoulders. He was smiling brightly when he came down, throwing himself happily into Seungmin’s arms, but Jeongin thought there was some sense of melancholy there. It was their last day, he supposed. His last moments with Seungmin and his friends for some weeks to come. And Jisung most likely didn’t relish going home.

Little by little, the rest of their dorm filed in. Chan immediately slumped down on the sofa, apparently going back to sleep on Felix’s shoulder; Changbin smiled fondly at the sight of, resting his head on Felix’s other side, Felix laughing brightly as he looped his arms around them, waking Chan in the process. Jeongin couldn’t help smiling at the way he blinked slowly, taking in the bright colours of the room and the sounds of his friends around him.

Hyunjin was the last to arrive; Jeongin didn’t even notice the sound of the door opening, only realising Hyunjin was behind him when he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind, breath soft against his ear.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly. "In front of the others, I mean."

Jeongin thought about it for a moment. He and Hyunjin hadn’t told anyone that they were involved in any capacity - they hadn’t really even put a name to it between themselves - but Chan obviously suspected. And Jisung had guessed that Jeongin liked someone…

He trusted these people with this, he decided. He trusted his friends.

"Ok," he whispered, and he felt Hyunjin pull him a little closer, twisting around slightly to press a kiss to his mouth. For a moment, there was silence; and then someone - Jeongin thought it might have been Felix - wolf whistled.

"You guys kept that quiet," Changbin complained, and Jeongin turned back to see him pouting a little, expression coloured with mock-unhappiness that such important information had been kept from him. Jisung, on the other hand, was smiling with a softness Jeongin could scarcely bear to look at for long. He was happy for them, Jeongin thought. So fondly, desperately happy for them.

"Yeah, well," he said with a slight shrug. "Seungmin was taken."

He watched as Changbin’s face creased with laughter, Seungmin raising his hands as if in victory.

"Come on," Felix complained. "Seungmin? You should have gone for me."

"You?" Jisung asked. "We all know  _ I’m _ Jeongin’s perfect match."

"Calm down, guys," Chan called, still sounding a little sleepy. "I know you’re upset, but he obviously meant me, not Seungmin."

Jeongin laughed until he could barely breathe, throwing his head back to rest on Hyunjin’s shoulder; Hyunjin was smiling too, looking at him with such impossible honey-sweetness that Jeongin kissed him again, just softly, before he dragged him over to the remaining armchair.

"I think we should arm wrestle for him," Seungmin was saying. "Prove who’s the strongest so he can choose who to marry."

"That gives Chan  _ such _ an unfair advantage," Jisung complained. "A battle of wits, please."

"What, like the Princess Bride?"

_ "Exactly _ like the Princess Bride. How’s your iocane powder immunity, Felix?"

Hyunjin held him close as the others bickered on, sighing contentedly against Jeongin’s cheek. He was happy like this, Jeongin thought. With his friends around him. With Jeongin.

He wished it could be that way forever.

* * *

Late that night, Hyunjin settled into Jeongin’s bed. It was around one in the morning, all of them having finally given in to their exhaustion after a day of board games and singing and candlelit stories from Chan. As far as last days went, Jeongin thought it had been perfect. But he still wished it wouldn’t end tomorrow.

"Hyunjin?" he whispered into the dark.

"Mm?" Hyunjin hummed in reply, pulling Jeongin close against him.

"I don’t want to go home."

For a moment, there was quiet. Just the sound of their breathing, mingled with the creak of old wood and the wind outside. "Me neither," Hyunjin replied eventually. "I want to stay here with you." As gently as he could, Jeongin rolled over in bed so that he and Hyunjin were almost nose to nose. Hyunjin smiled slightly, pressing his forehead to Jeongin’s for a moment. "I don’t think you understand what you are to me," he whispered, and it took Jeongin a moment to fumble for a reply that he thought might mean something.

"My heart is a suspended lute," he said softly. "As soon as you touch it, it resonates." The words felt clumsy on his tongue, lacking in the elegance and soul they had been steeped in when falling from Hyunjin’s lips. But Hyunjin seemed to understand, leaning in to kiss Jeongin slowly, holding him as close as possible within the narrow bed.

Neither of them spoke when they parted. They’d said what they needed to, Jeongin felt. There wasn’t much else they _could_ say, at any rate.

"Let’s get some sleep," Jeongin murmured eventually, and he thought he felt Hyunjin nod softly. Little by little, as though his dreams didn’t want to pull him away from the sensation of Hyunjin’s arms around him, Jeongin fell asleep. He thought he woke, once, Hyunjin missing from the bed, but the rustle of the covers and the return of his warmth sent him back before he could even make a sound.

* * *

The drive home was silent. Jeongin’s father wasn’t in the car, just the chauffeur in the front seat, so Jeongin sat there without speaking, doing his best to relive his final hours in his dorm. He hadn’t been the first to go; Jisung had left first, and he and the others had turned away for a moment as Seungmin had hugged him close, whispering something into his ear that made tears shine in both their eyes.

Felix had followed soon after with a less painful goodbye. He and Changbin would message each other with a code they’d established, he knew, and things weren’t so dire at home that anyone was worried for his safety. He had hugged them all anyway, fierce and warm, and they had waved him goodbye.

After that, it had been Jeongin’s turn. He had embraced each of the others in turn while the chauffeur took his suitcases, Chan holding him for a beat longer than anyone else. "Take care of yourself, ok?" he had said. "Don’t forget about anything we’ve taught you."

"It’s only three weeks," Jeongin had reminded him gently.

"I know. Just… don’t forget."

"I won’t."

Hyunjin hadn’t seemed to know what to say when faced with Jeongin leaving. He had simply looked at him, eyes dark and lovely and a little afraid, until Jeongin had kissed him. "I’ll miss you," he’d said, and Hyunjin had given him a fragile little smile.

"I’ll miss you, too," he’d said, almost in a whisper. "One more for the road?" So Jeongin had kissed him again, only pulling away when he’d heard footsteps on the stairs. He’d felt Hyunjin’s hand slip out of his jacket pocket, and had patted it gently to show he knew that Hyunjin had left something for him there.

He resisted the urge to reach into his pocket now that he was in the car. He would check later. Once he was alone.

The welcome he received was lukewarm. "Back already, darling?" his mother said, kissing his cheek lightly before returning to rearranging the photographs on the mantelpiece. "I had no idea that was the time. How’s school?"

"I like it," Jeongin told her. "The grounds are massive, it’s-"

"Oh, good," she said vaguely, cutting him off. "Your father should be back for dinner. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear that you’re enjoying yourself."

_ I have a boyfriend _ , Jeongin thought about saying into her airy silence.  _ I like a boy and he sleeps in my bed and calls me pretty and he tastes like honey when we kiss. _ He didn’t think she was listening well enough to actually hear it.

He headed up to his room instead, not wanting to start any kind of confrontation. Throwing himself down on his bed, he slipped his hand into his pocket and found a scrap of paper there. The writing on it was unmistakably in Hyunjin’s hand, and Jeongin felt a sudden wave of loneliness as he looked at it. If only he were here. If only he were beside Jeongin in his bed, too big and too cold for him to sleep comfortably in. If he closed his eyes, Jeongin could imagine it. Pretend that he was there, stretched out by Jeongin’s side, watching the sunrise from their window. He opened his eyes, sighing. The window by his bed here faced south, not east. Jeongin didn’t even have that comfort.

Returning to the slip of paper in his hand, Jeongin finally read it.  _ Look in your suitcase _ , it read. Excitement bubbling in his chest, Jeongin scrambled from his bed and crossed the room, laying his suitcase down so that he could open it; he scattered his belongings across the floor, haphazard piles of shirts and books forming a semi-circle around him, until he found something wrapped in paper. It felt like a book, he thought, the right weight and size, and he was thrilled when his fingertips met the smooth clothette of the cover.

"Shakespeare’s Sonnets," he read aloud, and he couldn’t help but smile, a wave of affection swelling in his chest. It was a brand new copy, beautifully bound in honey-gold, the title embossed in black, and something about it just… felt like  _ Hyunjin _ .

It didn’t quite seem to close properly, and Jeongin frowned as he opened it and something shining slid out onto his lap. A locket, he realised as he picked it up, old and with a very slight film of tarnish over the gold. The pattern on the shell was delicate, old-fashioned scrollwork etched in patiently, and when Jeongin gently opened the clasp, he found the tiniest sketch of Hyunjin; it was around the size of the pad of his thumb, and so beautifully detailed that Jeongin almost wanted to touch it. Carefully, he clicked the locket closed, pulling his old one free and replacing it. Hyunjin was infinitely more important, he decided, than a girl he barely even knew anymore.

Would his parents approve of Hyunjin, he wondered as he fiddled with his old locket, if he were a girl? With soft curves and flowing hair and colour staining her lips? They might. But Jeongin didn’t think he’d want that; he loved Hyunjin as  _ Hyunjin _ . With the strength of his shoulders and the flat of his chest against Jeongin’s as they’d kissed in his bed.

He sighed, returning to the book. He could wait to talk to his parents, he decided. Just until he knew their stance on such things.

Hyunjin had left him a message within the front cover. His handwriting there seemed a little neater than Jeongin thought it normally was, as though he had been careful, thinking hard about what he might say.

_ Dorian _ , it read;  _ You’re still here as I write this, asleep in bed, but it feels as though you’ve already gone; I think I already miss you terribly. I know we didn’t talk about Christmas presents, but I just wanted to leave you with something to make sure you think of me. You don’t need to make any such gesture; you have my guarantee that I’ll think of nothing but you for the next three weeks. At least I have my sketchbook, in the unthinkable event that I forget your face. I’ll be counting down the days until I can see your eyes in person again, and we can watch the sunrise. _

_ Yours, absolutely, _

_ Hyunjin _ .

"Yours, absolutely," Jeongin murmured, running his fingers over the words before reaching up to hold the locket tight. "I’m yours, too."

But Hyunjin couldn’t hear him. So Jeongin just had to hope that he could feel it; that if he loved hard enough, Hyunjin might know over the distance.  _ Yours _ _,_ he thought, as loudly and as fervently as he could.  _ Absolutely . _


	5. euripides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst chapter ft Minho!
> 
> Final chapter (aside from the bonus) will be up on Wednesday <3

Jeongin didn’t make it back in time for the first day.

"The snow’s just too thick to drive," his father told him. "You get a few extra days of holiday."

_ I don’t want them _ , Jeongin thought, lying listless on his bed, as the snow continued to fall.  _ I want to go back _ .

He stayed home for an extra four days before the snow began to thaw. As soon as he noticed it beginning to thin, he started packing up his suitcase, tucking the book Hyunjin had given him lovingly between two jumpers. He’d read it again and again over the holidays, dog-earing the pages of his favourite sonnets and scrawling notes in the margins. Some of them were simple thoughts on the meanings of certain lines, little notes on Shakespeare’s use of language. Others went deeper; rambles in the smallest handwriting he could manage on how a certain word, a turn of phrase, made him think of Hyunjin; the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he had held Jeongin close when they kissed.

_ I miss you _ , those notes said, deep down.  _ I miss you. _

* * *

He almost stopped breathing when the school finally,  _ finally _ came into view.

"I’ll take my suitcases," he insisted to the chauffeur. "Please, get home before it starts to snow again." The chauffeur nodded, apparently a little surprised, and Jeongin felt his heart leap as he headed inside and up the first flight of stairs.

The wood-panelled corridors were empty, most of the students apparently engaged in their lessons, and Jeongin couldn’t help but smile at the aura of the place; the portraits on the walls, the smell of wood and dust and age, the faint hum of sound from the classrooms. It felt like home.

There was no such hum coming from inside his dorm. Jeongin pushed the door open, hoping perhaps that someone was just sitting there in silence, but the atrium was empty. His heart sank, and he tried to shake off the feeling.  _ You’ll see them soon _ , he told himself.  _ They’ll come back here eventually. _

In the meantime, he decided, he would unpack a little. Just for something to do.

He almost cried when he stepped into his and Hyunjin’s room. Hyunjin’s bed was neater than usual, the blankets still tucked and free of creases, a scattering of books covering the duvet. It didn’t particularly look as though it had been slept in.

His own bed, on the other hand, was a  _ mess _ . The duvet was thrown back, sheets creased and pulled free on the edges as though someone had tossed and turned, unable to rest. Yet more books covered the pillows, and a half-empty bottle of vodka lay tucked between the folds of the duvet.

_ Hyunjin _ , Jeongin thought, standing still in the middle of the room and staring at the mess.  _ He’s been sleeping in my bed _ .

The door to the atrium clicked open before he could start crying in earnest, and he dropped his suitcase in surprise, the  _ thud _ of it apparently alerting whoever had just entered the dorm.

"Hyunjin?" Changbin called. "Is that you?" Slowly, Jeongin peered around the edge of the door, and watched Changbin’s eyes widen in shock. "Jeongin! Oh my god,  _ Jeongin _ _!_ Come here!" Jeongin was pulled into a crushing hug before he really had time to react, Changbin lifting him off his feet momentarily. "We’ve been so worried. Chan’s been pulling his hair out thinking that something happened to you, and Hyunjin-" he stopped, stepping away and brushing some imaginary dust off the shoulder of Jeongin’s jacket.

"Is he ok?" Jeongin asked hesitantly.

"Not... not really," Changbin admitted. "But I’m sure you being here will help."

"Do you know where he is?"

Changbin shook his head. "He’s been sneaking out a lot. He’s probably not even in school." Jeongin’s heart sank, and Changbin could obviously tell from his face. "He always comes back at night," he promised. "Come on, let’s go see the others. They’re in the infirmary, I just came to grab some snacks. Grab another blanket, too, can you?"

Arms bundled with packets of biscuits and fruit gummies, and a blanket draped over one shoulder, Jeongin and Changbin descended the stairs and entered the infirmary. Their dorm was gathered around one of the beds, and they let out a cheer at the sight of Jeongin, the sound echoing into the high ceiling. He was immediately bundled into a kind of group hug, only Seungmin staying at the bedside, Chan and Felix pushing past each other to reach him. He thought he felt Felix press a kiss to his cheek, and he laughed out loud at the sensation.

"I missed you," he told them, wishing he could return the hugs without dropping everything he was holding. "I missed you all so much."

"We missed you, too," Chan told him warmly, eyes wide and a little worried. "We thought- we didn’t know what had happened."

"The snow was bad at home," Jeongin explained. "We just couldn’t get anywhere. I was so upset, I sort of considered sneaking out and hitch-hiking my way here. That probably would have taken me the same amount of time, though."

From beside Jisung’s bed, Seungmin laughed. "Probably. I feel like your grasp of geography isn’t that great."

"It really isn’t," Jeongin agreed, heading over and passing Seungmin the blanket when he reached for it. He immediately tucked it over Jisung, who smiled fondly and reached for Jeongin’s hand.

"Hey," he said, voice worryingly hoarse.

"Hey, yourself," Jeongin replied softly, and Jisung’s smile grew a little brighter. "How are you holding up?"

"My body hates the cold," Jisung told him. "It’s decided to not work for a bit."

"His blood pressure’s dropped way too low," Seungmin explained. "It happens sometimes. We usually push through it."

Jisung nodded. "I’ll be fine. I’m just sort of tired."

"Go to sleep, then," Jeongin told him, running a hand gently over his hair.

"Nah. Need to hear what you got up to over Christmas."

The six of them talked for a few more hours, Seungmin intermittently doing his best to feed Jisung dried fruit and Jisung obediently taking it from Seungmin’s fingertips with his teeth. "It’s like giving treats to a dog," he joked, and Jisung stuck out his tongue before beckoning Seungmin in for a kiss.

"Come on, guys," Chan said eventually. "It’s getting late, and Jisung needs rest. We can come back in the morning, yeah?"

"I’m staying until they kick me out," Seungmin told them. "I might see you later."

"It was good to see you again," Jeongin said, and Seungmin smiled.

"Yeah. You too."

"Hyunjin’s been coming back around midnight," Chan told him as they ascended the stairs to their dorm. "Just so you know."

"Thanks. I’ll wait up for him."

Chan patted him on the shoulder, smiling very faintly. "He’s missed you. He’ll be glad that you’re back."

Jeongin felt a rush of something in his chest at the thought of seeing Hyunjin again, of being beside him, being able to kiss and talk and read poetry with him. "I’m glad to be back," he said.

Not bothering to change into his pyjamas, Jeongin settled onto his bed, moving a few things like the vodka and a few of the books out of the way so that he could sit comfortably. He’d read, he decided, picking up one of Hyunjin's Greek plays, until Hyunjin arrived. He checked the time. Almost nine o’ clock. Three more hours until Hyunjin came home.

Three more hours.

* * *

When it finally came, the soft creak of the atrium door made Jeongin jump. It was twenty minutes to one in the morning, and he’d made his way through a good number of Hyunjin’s books, reading the shorter volumes in full and flicking through the longer ones for Hyunjin’s notes, his folded pages, the parts of the book he’d enjoyed most. It had felt like some pale imitation of Hyunjin’s presence, and Jeongin had pressed a palm to his chest, feeling the way his heart beat fast at the idea of seeing Hyunjin again.

The door to their room swung open.

And there he was, staring dully at Jeongin, eyes slowly growing wide as he took in the sight of him. He looked tired, Jeongin thought, and a little thinner than he had been before the holidays. His hair had been cut, too, almost cruelly short, and it lent him a kind of innocence Jeongin didn’t know how to interpret. It made him look young, he decided. Young, and perhaps a little afraid.

"Hi," he said, and he watched Hyunjin’s expression slowly twist into something brighter.

"Jeongin," he replied, and it sounded as though he might be about to cry. "You’re here."

"I got back today," Jeongin told him. "I couldn’t get here because of the snow, I wanted to come back sooner, but-"

Hyunjin didn’t let him finish his sentence. He crossed the room in three strides, kneeling over Jeongin’s legs and kissing him with a passion that took Jeongin a moment to adjust to; he’d expected Hyunjin to be happy to see him, of course, but Jeongin didn’t think he was going to be allowed to  _ breathe _ .

"I missed you, too," he murmured when Hyunjin finally pulled back slightly, forehead still pressed to Jeongin’s even as he reached up to trace his cheekbones, his nose, his lips with his fingertips as though making a map.

"You’re really here," he said softly, and Jeongin nodded, running his fingers gently over Hyunjin’s short hair.

"You still taste like honey," he whispered in response, and Hyunjin kissed him again, pushing him down by his shoulders so that he lay above him on their bed. He pressed kisses to Jeongin’s mouth, his cheeks, his jaw, even one of his earlobes, and Jeongin found himself laughing as Hyunjin’s breath tickled his neck.

"I thought you weren’t coming back," Hyunjin admitted, brushing his hair from his forehead with a tenderness that made Jeongin’s chest hurt. "I thought you didn’t want to. I thought I’d never see you again."

Jeongin pulled one of his arms back from where he’d looped it around Hyunjin’s neck, reaching beneath his shirt to pull Hyunjin’s locket free so that he could see it. "Of course I came back," he said, watching Hyunjin’s eyes widen as he recognised the design. "I’m yours."

And Hyunjin did start crying then, a few shining tears that dropped onto Jeongin’s skin, and when Jeongin pulled him down for another desperate, aching kiss, he could taste the salt behind the honey.

* * *

Now that he was back, Jeongin found himself  _ thriving _ . It was like returning to water after a journey through a desert; he spent time with his friends, finally allowing Felix to teach him Akkadian through the Epic of Gilgamesh, laughing at the way he would lightly tap Jeongin’s knuckles with the book when he ceased to pay attention; he played the violin at any opportunity, learning new pieces and improving day by day; and he posed for the portrait, Hyunjin chiding him to stay still until he caved and kissed Jeongin until he couldn’t breathe.

Sometimes, though, Hyunjin didn’t seem quite right.

He treated Jeongin the same, still curling close in his bed, still reading him poetry and taking his hand in the corridors; but sometimes, he would seem to lapse, going silent and sad and strange, and more than once Jeongin caught Hyunjin just… looking at him. Watching, with sad eyes.

_ He’ll probably dip after the holidays _ _,_ Jeongin remembered Chan telling him.  _ He won’t be right _ _._ That’s all this was. A dip. Hyunjin would be fine.

But things just kept on changing.

Hyunjin started to forgo his usual red wine on their trips to the tower for vodka; Jeongin watched him drink it, pulling faces at every swig and quickly shaking them away. "Do you really like that stuff?" he asked jokingly, trying to lighten the atmosphere between them. It was a particularly dark evening in early February, snow falling down outside, and the tower was freezing despite the volume of candles they’d lit.

"It’s not about liking it," Hyunjin told him.

"What is it about, then?"

And Hyunjin just looked at him again, for a long, slow moment. Jeongin couldn’t decipher his expression. There was pain in it, he thought, and some kind of fear, all hidden behind a mask of something blank and dull. He hated it.

"It’s about coping," he said.

"Vodka isn’t how you cope, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin offered him a tired, crooked smile. "It is when you don’t have anyone you can turn to."

The comment stung, and Jeongin couldn’t respond for a moment. "You have me," he said eventually, voice smaller than he’d like in the frigid air. "I’ll take care of you."

Hyunjin’s expression shifted for a moment, some of the usual spark back in his eyes. He knew the words Jeongin had spoken, knew who had written them.  _ Come on _ _,_ Jeongin thought.  _ I know you want to respond to this, I know you want to quote Euripides with me and pretend that everything is fine.  _

"It’s rotten work," Hyunjin said wearily after a moment too long, and Jeongin felt his heart lift a little in his chest.

"Not to me," Jeongin told him softly. "Not if it’s you." And he watched, heart sinking, as a little of the light faded from Hyunjin’s eyes again. But Hyunjin didn’t simply turn away as he expected; he crossed the small space between them, crawling close enough to Jeongin that his breath, sharp with the scent of alcohol, brushed his cheek.

"Why do you have to be like this?" he asked in a murmur. "Why do you have to be so perfect?"

Jeongin didn’t have time to approximate an answer, joking or otherwise, before Hyunjin kissed him.

It wasn’t like their other kisses. Jeongin could feel Hyunjin’s tongue against his own, the taste of the vodka ugly and crystalline, and when Hyunjin’s hands settled, one at his neck and the other at his thigh, the latter pushed high enough that Jeongin froze for a moment. It wasn’t uncommon for Hyunjin to brace his hand like that when they kissed in the tower, the small space difficult to balance in, but never so high up on his thigh, never with his fingertips digging in just enough to make Jeongin panic, thumb brushing along the inner seam of his trouser leg.

He gripped Hyunjin’s wrist, pushing his hand further down towards his knee, and broke the kiss as he turned his face away. A long moment passed like that, Jeongin’s heart beating too fast in his chest, Hyunjin silent and still, leaned in close.

But slowly, Hyunjin pulled his hand free, retreating to his side of the tower. "Sorry," he murmured, and Jeongin didn’t reply for a moment. He didn’t really know how.

"I’m going to bed," he said eventually, voice soft and shaking a little. "Don’t drink too much, ok?"

"Yeah."

Hyunjin didn’t sleep beside him that night. Jeongin listened as he shuffled into their room at around midnight and threw himself down on his own bed for once. Jeongin wasn’t sure whether to sit up, tell him that it was ok, that he could still share Jeongin’s bed the way he always did.

But he stayed curled beneath the covers, a little lonely and a little confused, and waited for sleep to come.

* * *

Hyunjin didn’t act as though anything was wrong the next day. He sat beside Jeongin at the breakfast table, quietly picking at the piece of toast Seungmin had transferred to his plate, occasionally joining in with the conversation in a faint, distant way when prompted to. Jeongin mostly ignored him, chatting to Felix about a particular chapter of Gilgamesh he couldn’t quite get his head around; he did his best not to show that anything was wrong, that he was in any way uncomfortable with Hyunjin so close, but more than once he caught Chan watching him, gaze steady and curious.

Jeongin just looked away.

But Chan caught Jeongin by the wrist as breakfast ended, pulling him over to another empty table for a moment, and Hyunjin, where he would normally have protested or complained about Chan stealing his boyfriend’s attention, simply walked away. Jeongin watched him, eyes caught on the uncharacteristic band on bare skin at the nape of his neck; his hair was just starting to grow again after his parents had apparently forced him to get it cut during the holidays, but it still wasn’t as long as it had been.

"Hey," Chan said, clicking his fingers before Jeongin’s eyes to make him pay attention, and Jeongin jolted a little as he focused back in on the conversation. Apparently, Chan had been speaking for some time. "I asked you what happened."

"I don’t know what- nothing," Jeongin lied weakly, and Chan sighed.

"Jeongin, you can’t tell me nothing’s wrong when Hyunjin sits next to you and  _ doesn’t _ have you half in his lap or feed you by hand. So... What happened?"

Jeongin just stood in silence for a moment, feeling a little lost. He didn’t know exactly how to tell him. Didn’t know how to say that Hyunjin had gotten through more vodka than Jeongin thought was healthy for one night, that he had implied that Jeongin wasn’t someone he could turn to when he needed him, that he had crossed some kind of line Jeongin hadn’t even known was there until Hyunjin’s hand had crept higher up his thigh.

Chan searched his expression, eyes softening from annoyance into concern. "Jeongin, are you ok?"

"He just- he made a move, I guess," Jeongin summarised uncomfortably. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was something. "And I- it was-" he trailed off.

"Oh," Chan said, and Jeongin couldn’t quite place what he was hearing in his tone. _"Oh."_ He paused, grip still tight around Jeongin’s wrist to prevent him from leaving. "Come with me."

"But-"

"What, you have plans with Hyunjin?" Chan asked sharply, and Jeongin lapsed into silence, and let himself be pulled away.

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the lake that he realised they were heading to the edge of the grounds. Chan’s hand was still wrapped tight around his wrist as he pulled Jeongin into the trees, preventing him from escaping back to the school, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure why he’d try. Chan might be strange, and often unsettling, but Jeongin trusted him. And he’d given Jeongin some good advice last time they’d talked about Hyunjin, so…

"Minho!" Chan called out as they approached the wall, tree-shadows dark and dappled around them. "Minho, are you there?"

"Over here," Jeongin heard, and he peered around a tree to see Minho straddling the wall, hair riddled with paperclips and jeans ripped from knee to thigh. He appeared to be fiddling with a box of matches, striking them and shaking them out almost as soon as they lit, wreathing him in curls of smoke that shifted and billowed, hiding him behind a grey haze.

Jeongin watched as Chan sped up, releasing Jeongin’s wrist and half-jogging over to Minho; he pulled him down by his collar for a long kiss, Minho’s fingers wrapped and tangled into his dark curls; when they pulled apart, Minho tucked a cigarette between Chan’s lips and struck another match, holding it close until the end of the cigarette began to glow.

"Thanks," Chan said around it, and Minho smiled fondly at him.

"No problem," he said happily. He had a pretty voice, Jeongin thought, a little deeper than he expected from the bright, catlike angles of his features. "Any particular reason for bringing your latest adoptee?" Jeongin flushed a little, somewhat embarrassed, but the softness of Minho’s smile in his direction reassured him that he had only meant to tease, not come across as cruel.

Chan sighed, slumping down against the wall and blowing out smoke. "He needs you to give him the talk," he said, eyes closed as he leaned his head back against the old, mossy stone.

Minho’s eyes widened, and Jeongin was certain that his own did the same. "The talk?" Minho asked. "You mean  _ the talk _ _,_ right?"

Chan took his time answering, apparently enjoying the first nicotine he’d had access to in a while. "Yup."

"Why not you?" Minho asked, kicking his shoulder gently. "You’re the one who decided to become his dad."

"Because you’re the one who gave  _ the talk _ to me, so I know you’re good at it."

Minho closed his eyes for a moment, apparently processing the situation. "Wait," he said to Jeongin. "Who is this regarding?"

"Hyunjin," Jeongin said in a small voice. "And it’s fine, you don’t have to-"

"Hyunjin?" Minho asked. "If it’s Hyunjin, why can’t he do it himself? It’s not like Hyunjin’s lacking in-"

"Experience, I know," Chan said tiredly. "But he’s also shit at communication, which is why he just… sort of threw himself at Jeongin, from what I can gather."

Minho turned to Jeongin questioningly. "He was drunk," Jeongin explained quietly. "But yeah, he… yeah."

Minho’s gaze softened. "He freaked you out, huh?"

"Kind of," Jeongin admitted after a long moment, and Minho hopped down from the wall, picking his way over fallen branches to stand before Jeongin, placing his hands on his shoulders. He had such kind eyes, Jeongin realised now that he was this close. In some ways, it was such a contrast to Chan, to the gravity of him, but in other ways, Jeongin thought that they were the same, deep down. Kind. Just wanting to help. Perhaps that was why they’d gravitated towards each other in the first place.

"You know, it’s ok to be freaked out," Minho told him gently. "Even if it’s something you thought you wanted, or if you hadn’t even thought about it until Hyunjin pushed; you know that’s ok, right?" Jeongin nodded uncertainly, and Minho patted his shoulder. "Look, if you want me to, I’ll tell you how stuff works. But I don’t want to push you if you don’t want to know, and more than anything I just need to tell you that you need to do this at your own pace. Say no as many times as you want."

"If he has to say ‘no’ to Hyunjin more than once after this, Hyunjin might have to cover up some bruises," Chan muttered as he passed through his cloud of smoke to pull another cigarette and a match from Minho’s pocket.

"Chan," Minho scolded gently, and Chan just shrugged.

"You know I love him, Min, but I’m not letting him mess Jeongin up," he murmured, striking the match on the rough stone of the wall, and Jeongin felt a sudden, strange surge of affection for him.

"Thanks," he said softly, and Chan offered him a slight smile.

"Hey, I’ll give you my number," Minho said, taking Jeongin’s hand and pulling a pen from one of his pockets. "Text me if you need any advice. About anything, not just sex." Jeongin couldn’t help blushing at the way he said it so casually, and Minho smiled softly at him as he finished writing down his number.

"I’ll… I’ll leave you two to hang out," Jeongin said weakly. "Thank you, though. I mean it."

"No problem," Minho said, squeezing his hand gently, and Chan waved, disrupting the twisting curl of smoke rising from his second cigarette.

The walk back to school felt oddly lonely. Jeongin looked at the number written carefully on the back of his hand more than he did his own feet, and he tripped once or twice, the last of the snow cold against his fingertips as he pushed himself back to his feet. On the final occasion, where he misjudged exactly how high the steps up to the school were, someone caught him; Hyunjin’s long hands wrapped around his arms, steadying him and stopping him from falling. His nails were bitten down almost to the quick, Jeongin noticed, one of them clotted with rusty red as though it had been bleeding.

"You… you wandered off," Hyunjin said after a moment, apparently reluctant to let go of Jeongin’s arms. "I didn’t know where you went."

"Chan wanted Minho to talk to me about something," Jeongin told him vaguely. He didn’t want to get into the specifics of it, he decided. Didn’t want to tell Hyunjin that the conversation had been about him.

"Oh," Hyunjin said, and in the silence that followed, he released Jeongin’s arms, letting his hands begin to fall to his side. Jeongin reached out and took hold of one of them before he could retreat altogether, and tried for a smile.

"How’s your hangover?" he asked, and Hyunjin gave a brittle laugh.

"Honestly, awful. The snow is much too bright."

"Let’s go inside, then," Jeongin suggested. "I can read to you."

Hyunjin squeezed his hand, some semblance of his usual light returning to his eyes. "I’d like that," he agreed. "What have you been reading lately?"

"You left some Greek plays on my bed. I’ve been reading those."

"Read one of those to me, then," Hyunjin said softly as he pulled Jeongin back inside and towards the sweeping spiral staircase. "Something tragic. Medea, maybe."

"Ok," Jeongin agreed, running a little to catch up with Hyunjin and walk by his side in the gathering dark of the school hallways. "I’ll read you Medea."

* * *

After that, Hyunjin seemed to want to keep Jeongin closer than ever; he would ask Jeongin to read to him more and more, enjoying the fading beginnings of the spring sunshine outside; he would kiss his cheek at the breakfast table, ignoring the glares of the boys at other tables; he began to follow him to his violin practices, reading or scrawling in his notebook while Jeongin played.

"I just like being around you," he said when Jeongin delicately asked why he was so determined to be beside him every second of the day. "Is it- is it too much?"

"No," Jeongin told him with a smile, crossing the room to hold him and press a kiss to his mouth. "It’s not." He found he had to initiate kisses more often these days; while Hyunjin seemed to want him closer in every other regard, he was often hesitant now to touch Jeongin in any way beyond taking his hand, or pressing chaste kisses to his cheek. He wouldn’t even sleep in Jeongin’s bed unless Jeongin asked him to, settling into his own each night until Jeongin complained that he was cold, or just wanted him there. His face would light up then, although he would try to control his expression, and he would sigh happily as he wrapped his arms around Jeongin’s waist.  _ You don’t have to wait for me to ask _ , Jeongin wanted to tell him.  _ I always want you here. I couldn’t sleep at home when I didn’t have you there. _

But somehow, he thought that this might be Hyunjin’s way of apologising for scaring him; for asking, with hungry hands and a fevered kiss, for something Jeongin wasn’t ready to give.

So Jeongin just kept asking him to come and sleep beside him, hoping that one night Hyunjin would understand that it was alright.

The others seemed to notice Hyunjin’s renewed attachment, too. Jisung, finally allowed out of the infirmary, clung to Jeongin in the atrium one evening, complaining that he never saw him anymore.

"You’re always disappearing off with Hyunjin," he pointed out, his head in Jeongin’s lap and his feet thrown over Seungmin’s. "Where do you two even go?"

Jeongin shrugged. "We’re around. Mostly in the music rooms. I play the violin, and he kind of just sits around. You should just come hang out with us."

Seungmin snorted. "Yeah, I don’t think Hyunjin would like that."

"Why not?" Jeongin asked with a frown. "You guys are our friends."

"Yeah, but he’s a little… let’s not say  _ possessive _ _,”_ Seungmin said slowly. "That’s maybe too harsh a word. But he likes having you to himself a lot." He paused. "Actually, yeah, scratch what I said before, he  _ is _ possessive." Jisung slapped his arm. "What?"

"Let him enjoy some alone time with his boyfriend," Jisung scolded. "God knows we disappear off together enough."

"Yeah, but I don’t pout if someone else wants to hang out with you," Seungmin pointed out, and Jisung sighed.

"I guess." He shifted, looking up at Jeongin with wide eyes. "Sorry. We don’t mean to talk shit about your boyfriend, but…"

"It’s ok," Jeongin said with a slight shrug. "I think he is sort of… close, at the moment, but it’ll pass. He’s just trying to make up for something that happened before." He smiled, poking Jisung’s nose. "I’ll make an effort to hang out with you guys more, yeah? He’s not exactly going to stop me if I say I want to hang out with my friends."

"Not yet," Seungmin muttered, low enough that Jeongin perhaps wasn’t meant to hear, and Jeongin almost wanted to protest.  _ He’s not like that _ , he wanted to say.  _ He just did one thing wrong and now he’s scared that it’ll push me away if he doesn’t keep me close _ .

But when he thought about it, that didn’t seem like the best excuse.

Maybe it was something worth talking to Hyunjin about. That he still wanted to spend time with him, wanted to keep their shining, candlelit moments together in the tower or in the music rooms; but that they could still let the world outside the two of them in.

After all, Chan would graduate at the end of the year. Really, Jeongin should spend as much time with him as possible.

"Come down to the music rooms some time," he told Jisung. "I’ll show you some of the stuff I’ve learned to play. I’m getting a lot better."

Jisung smiled up at him, bright and shining. "Yeah! I really want to see you play. Our resident musician."

"Does no one else play anything?" Jeongin asked, and Seungmin shrugged.

"We all have the background of ‘our parents wanted us to play piano but none of us ever actually enjoyed it’. Oh, except Chan."

"Chan plays piano?"

"Yup. You should ask him to accompany you sometime."

"Yeah," Jeongin said thoughtfully. "I might." It would be a step, he decided, in showing Hyunjin that they could still let other people into their lives and be as close as always.

It was something to consider, at least.

* * *

Jeongin ended up bringing it up with Hyunjin the next day; they were hidden away in the music room, Jeongin posing for the portrait again with his violin. Eventually, Hyunjin seemed to tire of painting, getting frustrated by some small detail, and Jeongin eventually placed his violin down and wandered over, pulling the brush from his hand and dabbing paint over his nose.

Hyunjin blinked at him in surprise, breaking slowly into a smile. "What was that for?" he asked, pulling the paintbrush from Jeongin’s hand before he could do any more damage.

"You were sighing too much," Jeongin told him, pulling Hyunjin to his feet.

"Was I?"

"Mm. I think I need to make you take a break." He kissed Hyunjin before he could reply, ignoring the cold smear of paint across his cheek from Hyunjin’s nose in favour of focusing on running his fingers through Hyunjin’s hair. It was almost as long as it had been before, now, and Jeongin could feel little sections of it that Felix had plaited together under his hands.

"That works," Hyunjin murmured against his lips. "Definitely more inclined to do this than paint you." He pulled back, laughing slightly at the way the paint had smeared across Jeongin’s cheekbone. "Although it looks like I  _ am  _ painting you."

"Am I prettier than the portrait?" Jeongin asked with a smile, and Hyunjin leaned in again, hovering close until Jeongin kissed him.

"Of course you are," he said softly once they broke apart again, reaching up to touch the smudge of paint and letting it cling to his fingertips. "My pretty Dorian." He pulled away, leading Jeongin across the room back towards his violin. "Play something for me?"

"Ok," Jeongin agreed. This could be a good time to bring up his earlier conversation with Jisung and Seungmin, he decided as he lifted the violin from the floor. "You know… Seungmin suggested that I ask Chan to play accompaniment for me on the piano sometime. I think it would be nice."

For a moment, Hyunjin was silent. "I thought I was the only one who’d heard you play," he said, and could hear the faintest hint of something akin to envy in his tone. But that wasn’t quite it; Hyunjin wasn’t jealous, Jeongin decided. He just seemed… afraid.

"You are," Jeongin told him. "Because I don’t mind you hearing me when I’m not that great at it. But I’m getting better, and…" he shrugged. "I just think it might be nice to do something with Chan."

"Yeah," Hyunjin said eventually, wandering across to the other side of the room to sit cross-legged on the floor with his back against the wall. "I guess it would be." He looked up with a weak smile. "I’d be the first to hear it, right? Once you’d figured out what you wanted to play with him."

Jeongin shrugged, picking up his violin. "I thought… I thought maybe it was something we could all do together. Like we’d stage a mini concert for you guys or something." Hyunjin didn’t reply, and Jeongin looked up to see him biting his lip, eyes uncertain as he looked down at the floor. "Hey," he said gently. "You know it doesn’t mean anything, right? That I want to spend time with them, too?"

Hyunjin still said nothing, and Jeongin struggled to hold in a sigh. It had been harder and harder to actually  _ communicate _ with Hyunjin this term, and he’d learned that he needed to be patient more than anything. "I’ve never had friends like this before, Hyunjin. I want to enjoy spending time with them before they start graduating and I can’t see them so often."

"I know," Hyunjin whispered. "I just-" he paused, apparently cutting off what he was going to say, and Jeongin crossed the room, sitting down before Hyunjin so that their knees touched

"It doesn’t change anything between us," he said softly. "I’m still yours, Hyunjin. I still love you."

Hyunjin lifted his head then, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, and it took Jeongin a moment to process his own words.  _ I love you _ _,_ he’d told Hyunjin.  _ I’m in love with you . _

"You… you love me?" Hyunjin asked, words barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Jeongin replied, and his words were quiet, too; this was a moment that needed to be said quietly, he felt, needed to be something small and secret and safe until it was ready to be said louder. "I love you."

He met Hyunjin’s eyes then, expecting something like tenderness, or joy; expecting to see his own heart reflected in Hyunjin’s eyes.

But Hyunjin just looked  _ terrified. _

"Hyunjin?" he asked, suddenly uncertain, dizzy with the realisation that maybe that wasn’t something he should have said, maybe he’d done this wrong. "Is that- are you ok?"

"I-" Hyunjin began, and his voice was so very small beneath the high ceilings of the room. "I need to go."

He got to his feet before Jeongin could stop him, supporting himself momentarily against the wall as though he were about to fall. And then he was gone, the door slowly swinging shut behind him, the soft  _ click _ of the latch filling the sudden, jarring silence.

And Jeongin just sat on the floor, clutching his violin and wondering what exactly had gone wrong.

* * *

Hyunjin didn’t come back to their room that night.

Or, at least, he didn’t come back while Jeongin was awake; Jeongin stirred briefly at around six in the morning to see Hyunjin leaving, the door closing behind him, leaving his bed ruffled and rough with sleep. He had slept, then. Just not beside Jeongin.

He cried for half an hour before breakfast, curling up on the bathroom floor to hide just in case Hyunjin came back.

Despite thoroughly washing his face to disguise the remnants of tears, it was apparently obvious that something was wrong. Even as he tried to focus on picking at his breakfast, appetite faded, he could see in his periphery the worried glances his friends were exchanging.

"Hey," Changbin said, reaching out to stroke his hair. "You ok?"

Jeongin shrugged, unwilling to really explain what had happened.  _ I was an idiot, _ he’d have to say.  _ I told Hyunjin I was in love with him and he didn’t say it back and now he won’t talk to me . _

"Jeongin, what’s wrong?" Jisung asked. He seemed genuinely concerned, voice tight with worry, and Jeongin just shook his head, trying not to cry again.

"It’s nothing," he said. "I’m just- I’m not feeling well. I’m going to go back to bed."

He pushed back his chair, ignoring Changbin’s hand brush his own as he got to his feet and left. They most likely knew, he thought, that Jeongin was having some kind of issue with Hyunjin. They always knew. He was just glad none of them had asked directly.

When he eventually managed to stop crying, curled beneath his covers, he slept for another three hours. He awoke feeling groggy and strange, head clouded with some strange, distant mixture of sleep and sorrow. He could just stay in bed, he realised. He didn’t have to leave.

But something about sitting there, surrounded by Hyunjin’s books, a little pot of honey lip balm resting on the bedside table, just made Jeongin want to burst into tears all over again.

* * *

Changbin was in the atrium when he wandered in after his shower. He smiled, offering Jeongin a small wave. "Feeling better?" he asked gently, and Jeongin thanked every deity he could think of for Seo Changbin.

"Kind of," he said, and Changbin patted the sofa beside him. Jeongin slumped down next to him, resting his head on Changbin’s shoulder and feeling his friend tuck an arm around him, pulling him closer against his side. "Thanks."

"No problem," Changbin murmured against his hair. "You know, Felix and I were going to go hang out by the lake. Do you want to come with us? Or do you just wanna stay here?"

Jeongin hesitated. It would be nice to spend time with his friends, he knew. But he didn’t quite think he had the energy, too weighed down by the muddle of guilt and confusion and fear in his stomach.

"I… I think I just want to stay here," he whispered. "You can go hang out with Felix though."

"Nah," Changbin said casually. "We can hang out here. I think it might rain anyway, so maybe the lake’s not the best idea."

Something in his tone, the gentleness of the lie he told to make Jeongin feel as though he wasn’t a burden, made something crack in Jeongin’s chest; he began to cry, tears soaking into the shoulder of Changbin’s shirt.

"Oh, hey," Changbin said softly, gently rubbing his shoulder. "It’s ok. You’re gonna be ok."

Jeongin didn’t know how long he cried for. At some point, Felix appeared, gently placing a blanket over him, and he managed to murmur out a thank you.

"What’s wrong?" he asked. "Is it-"

"Just let him cry it out," Changbin interrupted gently, and Jeongin didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful for him. He knew what Felix had been about to ask, and he didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to talk about it

He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to.

* * *

The last remnants of winter began to pass, chill fading from the air as spring started to bloom, and Hyunjin continued to avoid Jeongin. He was rarely present at meals, often just grabbing food and leaving, and the others seemed to attempt to make up for his presence; they talked louder, pulling Jeongin into conversation more often or immediately pulling him away after breakfast to share in some plan for the day that they’d made.

The only one who didn’t seem to change the way he interacted with Jeongin was Chan. He would simply stare while the others did their best to distract him, gaze heavy and cryptic as ever. What did he think had happened, Jeongin wondered? Obviously he hadn’t assumed that Hyunjin had made some kind of move again, or Jeongin thought that he would be far more confrontational.

But he was the only one who hadn’t made some kind of attempt to find out what had happened. Even Changbin had asked in the end, tentatively mentioning that he’d noticed Hyunjin and Jeongin didn’t seem to be quite so close anymore. That had hurt, a deep, hollow ache in Jeongin’s chest; it had apparently been obvious in his expression, because Changbin had quickly changed the subject.

Today, though, Chan seemed to have made some kind of decision.

He wandered down to breakfast late, apparently having taken some time to sleep in, and dragged a chair from another table into the space between Jeongin and Seungmin.

"Come hang out with Minho and I later," he said as he spooned sliced peaches onto his plate. "He’s taken a shine to you."

"I… ok," Jeongin said slowly. He didn’t particularly have any reason to object; he hadn’t made plans with any of the others yet, and somehow he thought that attempting to turn Chan down wouldn’t actually get him anywhere. "What time?"

"We can go after breakfast," Chan told him. "He’ll be waiting by the wall."

"Ok," Jeongin murmured, accepting a slice of toast that Seungmin offered him around Chan’s back. "It’ll be nice to see him."

They headed out into the morning together after breakfast, Jeongin shivering just slightly at the chill in the air. It didn’t seem to bother Chan; he walked tall as usual, that peculiarly focused saunter he had making Jeongin run a little to catch up.

It was even colder beneath the shadows of the trees; the bark and branches seemed to pull the warmth from the air, even as the new leaves sparked green into the canopy as they emerged from their buds.  _ Spring,  _ Jeongin thought.  _ Hyunjin read me endless poems about spring _ .

The thought made that strange, hollow feeling open up in his chest again, and he tried not to think about it.

"Minho!" Chan called. "We’re here."

"Yay!" Jeongin heard Minho shout from somewhere close by. He came into view moments later, sitting on the wall as before. His hair was empty today, hanging soft over his forehead, but the front pocket of his dungarees looked to be filled with a mixture of electrical wires and fizzy straws. Jeongin watched as he pulled a wire free, putting it in his mouth for a moment before he frowned, took it out, and replaced it with a sweet. "Hey, Jeongin."

"Hey," Jeongin replied, stepping forwards and taking the fizzy straw Minho offered him.

"How have you been getting on? It feels like it’s been a while since we hung out."

"I’m ok," Jeongin said quietly around the straw, and Minho gave him a long look.

"I can tell you’re lying," he said. "But that’s cool. Have some more sweets and tell me about school. You must have some projects going on, right?"

"I’ve- I’ve been learning some more stuff on the violin, I guess," Jeongin told him. "Seungmin suggested I ask Chan to play piano with me, actually."

Minho’s face lit up. "Oh, you should. He plays beautifully. I only know that because I snuck him into the music department of my uni at four in the morning and we sort of had to run away from security and I  _ think _ they thought we were ghosts, but… really. He plays beautifully.”

"I’m not that good," Chan muttered from beside him, looking down at the ground, and Minho smiled with such impossible fondness that Jeongin had to look away.

"You really are," he said, and Chan just made a slight sound, and reached out to take his hand.

"What about you?" Jeongin asked, not particularly wanting to focus on the way the two of them looked at each other. "Anything interesting going on?"

"Oh, absolutely. Let me tell you about my final year project."

Jeongin listened contentedly as Minho rambled on about mixing engineering with art, sculptures in motion, electricity powering wings. He didn’t really understand much of it, but it was just nice, somehow, to hear someone talk about things that weren’t so closely tied to him. That weren’t so closely tied to  _ Hyunjin _ .

At some point, he caught Chan watching him, gaze steady with the faintest of smiles, and he thought that maybe that was the point of pulling him away from the school to talk to Minho. Maybe he’d just known that Jeongin needed something to distract him.

Minho stayed for around another hour, pulling apparently endless sweets from various pockets to push into Jeongin’s hands as he chatted on about the importance of properly insulating your projects. Chan laughed at him once or twice, soft and barely there, and Jeongin was struck once again by just how much  _ affection  _ there was between him and Minho. It was soft, and warm, and golden as a drawn-out sunset.

_ That must be what happens after four years with someone _ , he thought, and did his best not to sigh. He didn’t want Minho to think he wasn’t enjoying his company.

It started to rain eventually, a soft grey haze that settled through the leaves and onto their skin, and Minho said his goodbyes. He patted the top of Jeongin’s head softly, reaching up a little due to the difference in their heights, and smiled. "You’re going to be ok," he said softly, and Jeongin thought he might cry.

He waited as Minho pressed a soft kiss to Chan’s lips and hopped over the wall, skin already slick from the rain. Chan watched him go for a moment, and then turned back to Jeongin, smiling ever so faintly.

"Come on," he said. "Let’s go home."

Despite the rain, they didn’t hurry. It was nice, somehow, to amble up the grass under the grey of the clouds, soil turning to mud beneath their feet. It wasn’t something Jeongin got to do particularly often.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Chan asked as they passed by the lake, rain forming endless, merging ripples on the silver-black of its surface. "What happened with Hyunjin?"

Jeongin didn’t answer him for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure how to, wasn’t sure if he could sum it up neatly without words spilling out of him like ink pouring out over a page.

"I told him I loved him," he said eventually, voice small beneath the sound of the rain. "And then he just… left. And he hasn’t talked to me since." It hurt to say. The words rang with too many undertones, overlapping and spreading into one another like the ripples on the lake.  _ I was stupid and naïve and I thought he loved me too but he obviously doesn’t and I don’t know what any of this has meant if he didn’t love me. If he didn’t at least think that he could _ .

"Will it help if I talk to him?" Chan asked, voice steady and calm.

Jeongin thought about it for a moment. "No," he said eventually. "I don’t think it will. I don’t know why I think that, I just… don’t think it will."

"Ok, then," Chan replied. "I won’t."

The two of them lapsed into silence then, Jeongin half-waiting for more questions. But Chan didn’t ask any, apparently thinking the conversation resolved, and the more Jeongin thought about it, the more he agreed. Chan had let him speak about what had happened without asking him to delve into his feelings on it in any depth. He had asked if Jeongin wanted him to intervene, and Jeongin had said no. What else was there to say?

"I’m heading this way," Chan said once they made it into the shelter of the entrance hall, gesturing down one of the corridors. "I’ll see you around."

"Yeah," Jeongin agreed, offering him a slight smile. "I’ll see you."

He scaled the stairs up to their dorm as Chan wandered away down the corridor, footsteps echoing ever so slightly in the silence. He’d take a shower, he decided, just to get warm, and maybe curl up with a book for the rest of the day. Seungmin had lent him a few recently, and it would be nice to get through them.

"-I’m just saying that I think you need to take a little more care of yourself," he heard through the door as he approached their dorm. Seungmin’s voice.

"I’m fine, Seungmin," someone replied, and Jeongin felt his heart twist. Hyunjin. Hyunjin was in there, in their dorm, and Jeongin hadn’t really seen him in weeks, and-

"You’re not. You’re barely eating or sleeping. You’re obviously not  _ happy _ , Hyunjin, and I don’t get why you ended things with Jeongin if it was going to make you like this."

There was a long pause, followed by Hyunjin speaking so quietly that Jeongin could barely hear him through the wood. "I didn’t end things with him," he said, voice small and soft. "Is that- did he tell you that’s what happened?"

"No. He’s not told us anything, Hyunjin, he just- he won’t talk about it at all. And we’ve all been trying to distract him, and cheer him up, but it’s hard when we don’t know what happened or why."

"Oh," Hyunjin said, and it was such a sad little word that Jeongin’s heart leapt in his chest as though it were trying to reach him.

"Would you tell me?" Seungmin asked. "If I asked, would you tell me?"

"I don’t think I have the words," Hyunjin replied, and Jeongin heard Seungmin sigh.

"Ok. That’s… that’s fine. But if you find them, you know I’m here, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Seungmin."

"No problem. Come on, let’s go grab you some food. I haven’t seen you at a meal time in too long, I need to make sure you’re getting some nutrition."

Footsteps moved towards the door then, and Jeongin panicked, stepping away in the hopes that they would assume he had just come up the stairs rather than eavesdropping at the door.

"Oh. Hi, Jeongin," Seungmin said quietly, tone a little tense. Jeongin understood why. Hyunjin was avoiding his eyes, avoiding looking at him  _ at all _ . As though his vision just… slid over Jeongin. Like he wasn’t there at all.

"Hi," Jeongin managed to reply. "It’s… it’s raining. Just in case you were planning on going out, I… I thought you should know."

"Thanks," Seungmin said. "We were going to stay indoors though, so it’s… it’s fine."

"Good," Jeongin muttered, looking down at the floor rather than face Hyunjin. "I’ll… see you, then."

"Yeah," Seungmin agreed, sounding rather relieved that Jeongin hadn’t attempted to prolong the conversation. "See you." He and Hyunjin passed by then, and Jeongin found himself breathing in as Hyunjin passed as though to draw some of his shadow into his lungs. He didn’t know exactly what he was hoping for. The phantom taste of honey, maybe.

It never came.

Hyunjin’s sketchbook was the first thing Jeongin saw when he entered their room. It was lying on his bed, tattered edges and scuffed cover making it seem almost too real somehow, as though it were more solid than anything else in the room.

Gently, Jeongin picked it up, leafing through the pages. A good deal of the sketches he had never seen, rough drawings of flowers or slight figures beside a lake. Felix and Changbin, Jeongin thought, drawn from up in the tower.

He could pinpoint with startling accuracy the point at which he arrived at the school. There was no subtle change, no slow saturation of Hyunjin’s mind with Jeongin; it was sudden, almost alarmingly so, pages that had been scattered with varied sketches now filled with endless drawings of  _ him _ _._ His features, pulled apart and lovingly laid across the page; his face in full from endless angles, sharp and careful; busts of him reading, the way his eyes focused down on the page, fingers curling around the spine.

_ Dorian _ _,_ every page was marked with in Hyunjin’s messy, sprawling handwriting.  _ Dorian . _

Eventually, Jeongin reached the last page. It was him, again, standing with his violin in hand. It wasn’t so accurate as some of the others, Jeongin thought. As though Hyunjin had drawn him from memory.

_ You were a stranger to sorrow, _ the text at the bottom of the page read,  _ therefore Fate has cursed you _ .

_ A stranger to sorrow, _ Jeongin thought to himself. He had been, hadn’t he? He hadn’t been happy before this place, before Hyunjin, but nor had he known this ache in his chest. As though something had been pulled from beneath his ribs, leaving him unsure of how to replace it.

Perhaps he never could.


	6. sappho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of plot! Chapter 7 is just a bonus that isn't plot related, so this is the happy ending. Warning for some homophobia from parents in this chapter. Chapter 7 will be up in a few days.
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you for reading <3

After seeing Hyunjin's notebook, Jeongin made a choice.

Hyunjin, he remembered, had told Seungmin that he hadn’t ended things with Jeongin. That they were still… something. Maybe. And, maybe, if Jeongin wanted to be hopeful, that meant that he would come back.

And until then, Jeongin would just… leave him alone.

It was difficult, he found, as Hyunjin slowly emerged from his isolation, apparently coaxed out by Seungmin; he was around more and more, in the atrium or briefly at mealtimes, but he still acted as though he couldn’t even see Jeongin.

It hurt. But most nights, Hyunjin didn’t come back until late, long after Jeongin had gone to sleep, so he had plenty of privacy in which to cry over it. Jisung had come in the first time it had happened, holding him gently and stroking his hair as he sobbed, and Jeongin had tried to be a little quieter since then.

He began to try to avoid places he thought Hyunjin might be, just to give him some space. It had nothing to do with the hollow feeling that came with Hyunjin ignoring him, he told himself.

Changbin and Felix seemed to go out of their way to make this easier for him; they pulled him away with them at every opportunity, enjoying the early spring sunshine by the lake, or hiding out in the art studios when they were empty. It was nice down there, surrounded by the smell of paint, and lighting that was never quite right, listening to Felix talk about his recent interest in Chinese woodblock printing. Jeongin would lie atop one of the desks, and let his eyes drift over the artwork of the students on the walls as Felix sketched patterns on the back of his hand, the skin there stained grey from the marks of previous days.

Neither of them ever asked him if he wanted to go in the darkroom next door. He was grateful for that.

"Guys?" he asked on one rainy day, the three of them sequestered away in the studio between art classes. "Would one of you switch rooms with me?"

He felt Felix’s pen still on his hand. "What, you mean bedrooms?"

"Yeah," Jeongin said.

"Why?" Changbin asked carefully, and Jeongin sighed, resting his arm over his eyes.

"Because I don’t think Hyunjin is sleeping," he said, voice coming out smaller than he’d like. "And I just… I think that might be because of me."

"You think he won’t sleep if you’re there?" Felix asked.

"He just… he’s  _ sleeping _ , but he comes in late and leaves early so that he doesn’t have to interact with me when he’s awake," Jeongin explained, and Changbin heaved out a sigh.

"I wouldn’t mind swapping with you," he said. "I’m sure Jisung would be happy to have you. But have you… are you sure it’s a good idea?"

"I just want him to get some sleep, Changbin."

"I know. But I think that maybe he just… needs to get used to being around you again."

"Yeah," Felix chimed in. "The end of term’s coming up, and it would suck if one of you didn’t show up to the celebrations because you can’t be in the same room."

"I don’t mind when he’s around," Jeongin said quietly. "It just bothers me when he won’t even look at me."

He saw Changbin and Felix exchange a glance. "He looks at you," Felix said slowly. "Like, a lot."

"Felix…" Changbin murmured, and Felix shrugged.

"It’s true. He just never looks at  _ you _ when you’re looking at  _ him ." _

"Oh," Jeongin whispered. He should be happy, he thought. That Hyunjin still wanted to see him, in some capacity.

But somehow, it just made him want to cry again.

"Hey," Changbin said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Let’s go back to the dorm, yeah? I’ve got a book I want to give you. And about swapping rooms…" he paused, apparently unsure of what to say. "It’s really not long until the end of term. Maybe if you still want to swap when we all move back in, we can do it then, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jeongin repeated, trying not to think too hard about the connotations of that. That he and Hyunjin still might not be right after the holidays. That this distance might last. "Sure."

He let himself be dragged back up to the dorm, Changbin pulling him into his and Jisung’s room and sorting through piles of books while Felix threw himself down on the bed, cuddling Changbin’s stuffed toy pig close.

"Smells like you," he muttered to Changbin.

"Take him for a few nights," Changbin offered with a smile, and Felix beamed. "I need him back before the end of term, though. He’s important."

"Yeah, I know," Felix said. "I’ll return him, don’t worry."

"Here it is," Changbin murmured, pulling free a slim black volume from a teetering pile of books that appeared to be mostly in Greek. "Sappho."

"Sappho?" Jeongin asked, taking the book gently from him.  _ Come Close, _ the title page read, and Jeongin flicked through, finding it to be some kind of poetry.

"Sappho of Lesbos," Changbin clarified. "They called her the tenth muse, her poetry was so beautiful. She’s mostly famous for her writings about the women she loved, but we only really have fragments of them left." He shrugged. "I don’t know. Thought a bunch of poetry about girls might stop you dwelling on stuff. It seems kind of dumb now that I’ve said it out loud. But it’s- it’s still good poetry."

"Thanks," Jeongin said. "And it doesn’t sound stupid. Really."

Changbin smiled, warm and hopeful, and Jeongin managed a smile back. Things would be ok, he thought, with friends like Changbin and Felix. Even if things were never the same with Hyunjin. Things would still be ok.

* * *

The Easter holidays rolled around a good deal faster than Christmas had. Jeongin was a little surprised by that; his first term had been a blur of new experiences and wonder and joy, every day feeling like it passed in an instant. But after the new year- after Hyunjin- time had begun to drag its heels, leaving Jeongin unsure of how to fill his days. Reading helped. He loved the poetry Changbin had lent him, keeping the book close to reread most of it daily, imagination somehow captured by the turns of phrase.

There was one page he left unread after the first time, though.  _ There is a boy, _ it read,  _ and lust has crushed my spirit, just as gentle Aphrodite planned. _

It hit just a little too close to home.

He was on perhaps his fifth reread, curled up in the corner of the music room, when Seungmin found him. "Hey," he said brightly. "You ready for the last day celebrations tomorrow?"

Jeongin hesitated for a moment, counting up the days in his head. "Wait- tomorrow’s our last day?"

"Yeah," Seungmin confirmed, wandering into the room and sitting down beside him. "We’re going to have a bit of a gathering like we did before Christmas. Wish each other good luck over the holidays, you know."

"Nice," Jeongin said quietly. An entire day in the dorm, he thought. An entire day in the same room as Hyunjin, who wouldn’t meet his eyes but apparently watched him when he looked away.

"Are you… are you going to be ok with that?" Seungmin asked slowly. "I already asked Hyunjin, and he says he’ll be ok, but… I don’t want to force you into a situation that’ll upset you."

Jeongin let his head fall back against the wall, thinking it over. "I… I think I’ll be fine," he said. "It’s not fair if one of us has to miss out, right?"

"You sure?"

"Not really. But I’ll just wander off if it starts to bother me."

Seungmin frowned a little at that, apparently not liking the idea of Jeongin disappearing for any part of the day. "I think you two can be ok," he said. "I really do."

"Yeah, well…" Jeongin responded vaguely. "I’ve tried my best to give him space to… I don’t know, decide what he wants to do, I guess. Since he won’t talk to me."

"Are you angry with him?"

"No," Jeongin admitted quietly. "I’m just confused. And sort of sad."

"I was angry with him at first," Seungmin told him. "I was  _ furious _ _._ I just… he was so happy, and then he… I don’t know. I don’t know what he did. But he was so miserable after that, and then Changbin told me that you’d been crying, and I was just… so  _ angry _ _.”_ He sighed. "But then I talked to him, and… I don’t think this is because of you, Jeongin. You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just… Hyunjin has always struggled with some things, and… he still does. And I can’t be angry at him for that when I know what he’s been through. When I know he needs my help in taking care of himself."

"I just wish he’d ask me for help," Jeongin whispered, and Seungmin looped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close.

"I know," he said against Jeongin’s hair. "I do, too."

* * *

The end of term celebrations went fairly smoothly. Jisung seemed to do his best to engage with Jeongin the whole time, dragging him into a game of Cluedo with Chan and Felix while the others watched, talking amongst themselves in the background. Jeongin tried not to tune in to the sound of Hyunjin’s voice when he spoke, desperate for something other than the memory of it. But he was mostly quiet, speaking in soft tones to Seungmin or Changbin, and Jeongin could rarely make out his words.

He wondered if Hyunjin was looking at him, soft, dark eyes focused on his back.

"Who are you going to accuse?" Felix asked, nudging him gently, and his attention snapped back to the game.

"Uh… Colonel Mustard, in the Dining Room, with the… with the rope," Jeongin replied, and the game continued on, Jisung tapping out a drumroll on his knees.

The day passed too quickly, even as they stayed up into the early hours of the next morning; Jeongin ended up sharing the armchair with Chan, the older boy wrapping an arm around his waist to make sure he didn’t fall when he laughed at Jisung’s jokes; he must have fallen asleep there, feeling warm and safe and protected, because he awoke on his bed, still fully clothed and lying over the covers, the door to the room closing with a soft click.

Jeongin sighed, rubbing his eyes until he felt awake enough to at least get changed. He tried not to look at Hyunjin’s empty bed as he headed to the bathroom, wondering where he was sleeping tonight. If he was going to sleep at all.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night. It felt wrong, to Jeongin, to be alone in his bed on his last night before he was sent home again. No, he thought. That wasn’t right. This was his home, really. With his friends, and his violin, and his view of the sunrise.

With Hyunjin.

Eventually, he drifted off into an unsettled sleep, disturbed by hazy dreams of Greek islands all scattered with columns and orange trees. He picked one, the scent of it heavy against his skin as he cut it into segments; but when he took a bite, juice running down his fingers to his wrist, all he could taste was honey.

* * *

Without the promise of Hyunjin there to greet him at the end, Jeongin found being at home with his family even more stifling than he had over Christmas. He still had his other friends, he reminded himself as he remained in his room through yet another morning, reading scraps of Sappho and Shakespeare, but it just didn’t feel quite the same. Not when he remembered the book Hyunjin had tucked into his suitcase; the note within, words tender and aching; the way Hyunjin had greeted him upon his return, kisses and tears and arms close around him.

Jeongin had checked his suitcase more than once. Just in case Hyunjin had decided to leave him anything.

They hadn’t even said goodbye to each other. "His parents are away," Chan had explained. "So he’s staying here over Easter."

"All by himself?" Jeongin had asked.

"Nah. There are a few others, and I know he’s on friendly terms with at least two of them. He’ll be ok, Jeongin. Better off than at home, probably."

Jeongin hoped he was telling the truth.

After yet another aimless, drifting day with his books and his room that didn't face the sunrise, Jeongin descended the stairs for dinner. He was a little late, the grandfather clock already having chimed six, and he didn’t miss the disapproving look sent towards him as he sat down. He ate quietly for a while, listening to his parents as they talked, discussing things that didn’t particularly interest him. He wanted, more than anything, to return to his room; not that he was even sure what he’d do there. Barely a week into the holiday, and he was already listless and tired, missing his friends and mostly ignored by his family.

Appetite suddenly lost, Jeongin put down his knife and fork. The faint sound seemed to remind his mother of his presence, and she glanced up, a smile fixed in place. "Jeongin, dear. Did you know that Haewon is back for the holidays?"

"No," Jeongin began. "I-"

"You should visit her," his mother told him before he could finish his sentence. "Get back in touch. You two used to get on so well, and I really think it would be good for you. She’s gotten really rather pretty, too."

"Sure," Jeongin said softly, hoping that it would end the conversation. He didn’t want to talk about this.

His father laughed. "Maybe you should stop trying to set him up with that girl," he suggested. "I mean, I’ve said it before; some of his school friends might have sisters."

"I’m going," Jeongin said quietly, pushing his plate away, but his mother kept talking as though she hadn’t heard him.

"You’ve known Haewon for  _ years _ , dear, and I know it’s been a little while but she really is a very lovely girl, and I think that you two would get on quite well enough if you  _ did _ decide to make a more permanent match."

"There are more interesting girls out there," his father added. "That’s all I’m saying."

"Oh,  _ don’t _ , she’s really very sweet-"

"And so are cough drops, but you don’t eat those every day."

Jeongin tried to get up again, to leave the conversation that was making him more and more uncomfortable by the second, but his father waved him back into his chair. "Your mother and I are talking to you," he said, and Jeongin clenched his fists beneath the table.  _ You’re not, _ he thought to himself.  _ You’re talking to each other about my future when you don’t know anything about me. _

"I just think she’s very suitable," his mother argued. "A safe choice."

"Safe? Come on, at least let the boy have a little  _ adventure _ -"   
_ An adventure, _ Jeongin thought, and for just a moment, his parents’ voices were drowned out by something else; the taste of red wine, poetry in his ear, kisses shared in the deep red light of the darkroom. Honey on Hyunjin’s lips, and on his own.

"-you do like her, don’t you? Jeongin?" Jeongin lifted his head to see his mother staring at him, brows furrowed just slightly.  _ Agree with me _ _,_ her expression said.  _ Just agree, and end the conversation quickly and conveniently. _

But Jeongin felt something snap in him, the sparkwheel of a lighter spinning to catch a flame.  _ You don’t know anything about me. But you will _ .

"I’m gay," he said simply, and he watched his mother’s face turn blank and pale as a sheet of paper.

"I- I know you might not like Haewon all that much," Jeongin’s father began to say into the following silence, "but that’s a bit of an extreme lie to get-"

"I’m not lying," Jeongin interrupted. "I’m gay. I like boys. I’ve never liked girls."

"Jeongin-" his mother started to say, and he watched as she stopped, expression contorting again. _“_ _ Jeongin -” _

"I’m going to bed," Jeongin said quietly. "We can talk about this in the morning."

"No," his father argued, voice rising. "We’ll talk about this  _ now _ _,_ Jeongin. You’re our son, we have a right to be able to talk to you about- about this… whatever this is."

"No," Jeongin told him firmly. "You don’t. Not when most of the time you act like I’m not here unless I’m doing something you want."

"Is that what this is? You’re just trying to get attention?"

"I’m trying to tell you the  _ truth _ _,"_ Jeongin almost shouted. "I won’t go and see Haewon, any girl you want to match me up to, because I’m gay, whether you want to hear it or not." He pushed back his chair, beginning to walk away, and listened to his father begin to shout in earnest from behind him.

"Jeongin! Get back here! Now! Turn around and face your mother and I!"

Jeongin didn’t. He broke into a run as soon as he reached the stairs, footsteps echoing until he reached his room and locked himself inside. He threw himself down on his bed, lying still and waiting to see what happened next. His parents were still shouting downstairs, he realised, their voices echoing up through the floor, and he grabbed the nearest book to him, opening it to a random page to try to distract himself somehow from what he'd just done. Sappho, he realised. It was the Sappho that Changbin had lent him.

_ Because my tongue is shattered, _ he read, trying to make the words as loud as he could in his head to drown out his mother’s voice.  _ Gauzy flame runs radiating under my skin; all that I see is hazy, my ears all thunder _ .

The volume rose, as though his father were heading up the stairs, coming to his room to confront him.  _ Because my tongue is shattered _ , he read again, trying to push the words into his mind so that there was no space for anything else.  _ Gauzy flame runs radiating under my skin.  _

Jeongin wasn’t sure how many times he read and reread those lines before the house settled into quiet again. It was almost eerie after the echoing voices, and Jeongin sighed, his own breath loud in the silence of his room.

He’d told his parents that he was gay.

And it hadn’t gone well.

Would they let him go back to school, he wondered? Would they try to keep him here, away from other boys? The thought panicked him a little, and the weight of what he’d done began to sink in.

_ I’ve done something stupid _ _,_ he wanted to tell someone. Chan, Changbin, Jisung. Anyone.  _ I’ve done something stupid and I can’t fix it and I don’t know if I’ll be able to see you again _ .

And when night came, Jeongin didn’t sleep. He just lay awake until the dawn, reading lines of Sappho and Shelley and Coleridge, trying to find solace in their words. Trying to distract himself from thoughts of people he might never see again.

* * *

The last two weeks of the holidays passed unbearably slowly. Jeongin spent most of his time shut away in his room, watching the rain roll down the window panes and waiting for something to change. His mother appeared completely unable to look at him without her eyes misting with tears, and his father… Jeongin didn’t see him much. But he’d heard several rather angry phone calls from his study as he passed by, and the phrases he’d managed to catch hadn’t been promising.

"Unacceptable behaviour-"

"To think that  _ my son _ -"

"If this is the behaviour permitted, I will  _ not _ be sending him back for another term!"

That last one had sent Jeongin into a panic he hadn’t known how to claw his way out of. He hadn’t even made it to his room, collapsing at the top of the stairs and trying desperately to breathe. He really might not be able to go back. He’d considered it, briefly, in the aftermath of that fateful conversation, but now it was  _ real . _

What would the others do if he just never returned? What would they think had happened? Would any of them try to contact him?

Would Hyunjin?

Jeongin had spent almost half an hour curled behind the banister, so choked by fear and grief that he’d thought he was going to die.

But he’d made it back to his room, in the end, shaking and exhausted and so full of despair that the sensation of it was almost physical. He might never see his friends again. He might just be carted off to another school, or kept here and educated by a tutor, never allowed to taste freedom again.

The idea was too much to bear. Jeongin already missed his dorm - his  _ family _ \- so much that it hurt. To never see them again would be… unbearable.

He didn’t sleep well after that, dragging himself through the days on barely four hours a night. Not that it mattered, he decided. He wasn’t doing anything. Simply lying in bed, weighed down by lethargy, unable to even read without bursting into tears.

Eventually, Jeongin’s father called him down to his study.

"I’ve been in contact with the school," he told Jeongin, not meeting his eyes. Jeongin didn't know whether that was because of how ill he looked, pale and exhausted and thin, or because he was ashamed of him. "Concerning your… issues. The headmaster has been most reassuring," he continued, and Jeongin wasn’t entirely sure whether to be hopeful or terrified. "He has informed me that such behaviour is not acceptable within the school, and that it will be formally addressed when you return."

_ When you return _ _._ Jeongin felt his heart leap, and he did his best to keep his expression carefully neutral.  _ Jisung _ _,_ something in his chest sang.  _ Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, Chan, Minho. Hyunjin. _

"You must understand, Jeongin, I am trusting the school to deal with this. If they do not - if I hear  _ any _ hint of this again - I will withdraw you immediately, and you will henceforth be homeschooled. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jeongin said, voice pressed small beneath the weight of his father’s gaze. "Yes, I understand."

"Good. Your mother will be pleased. This… this little stunt of yours has upset her a great deal."

Jeongin bit his tongue as subtly as he could to stop himself from shouting.  _ It’s not a stunt. It’s not for attention. It’s real. I’m real . _

After it became apparent that no reply was coming, Jeongin’s father sighed, and waved a hand towards the door. "Go on. Pack your things. You’ll be driven back tomorrow."

Nodding, Jeongin left as quickly as he could, waiting until he was down the corridor to start running, swinging around the bottom of the staircase to catapult himself up the stairs. He was going back to school. He was going  _ home . _

But he would have to be careful. Jeongin sighed, thinking that might be surprisingly easy. It wasn’t as if he and Hyunjin were kissing in broad daylight anymore, pressed into the little alcoves of the corridors where statues should stand.

Although, he realised, Felix and Changbin were never careful; nor were Seungmin and Jisung. He’d even seen one of the infirmary staff smile when Seungmin pressed a kiss to Jisung’s forehead before he left, as though she thought the moment sweet.

So perhaps he had a chance of things returning to normal. If the school weren’t really so strict about the love lives of their students.

If Hyunjin still looked at him the way Felix thought he did.

With a sigh half of relief and half of exhaustion, Jeongin pulled his suitcase out from under his bed, and began to pack. He was going home, he reminded himself. That was something to be happy about.

What happened once he was there was something else entirely.

* * *

Jeongin couldn’t relax on the car journey; he sat in the back, waiting for his father to call saying that he’d changed his mind, that Jeongin wasn’t allowed to go back after all. He’d get out of the car if that happened, he decided. Forget his suitcase and run and hide from the chauffeur in the trees and try to hitchhike. Anything to get home.

But before long, the school came into view on the horizon, and Jeongin’s heart began to settle in his chest. He wouldn’t feel safe until he was in his dorm, he didn’t think, huddled away with his friends; but that wasn’t far off, now.

His plans were interrupted by the headmaster. He stood in the entrance to the school, expression stern and dark suit neatly pressed. If it weren’t for the faint movement of the breeze through his hair, Jeongin would have thought him part of the stone.

"Mr Yang," he said. "I believe your father wanted us to have a discussion about your behaviour last term." Jeongin nodded, unable to speak past the knot of fear in his throat. "If you’ll follow me to my office."

The headmaster’s office was down a familiar corridor; Jeongin felt himself flush a little as he remembered running from the library with Hyunjin and hiding beneath the stairs here, returning weeks later to share kisses aware from the rush of the corridors. Hyunjin had pressed his mouth against the point where Jeongin’s jaw dipped into his neck below his ear, just briefly before he whispered some teasing remark, and it had made Jeongin shiver.

The headmaster led him up the spiral staircase to a heavy wooden door, opening it and gesturing for Jeongin to enter first. He nodded politely as he did so, hoping the tremor of his knees wasn’t obvious. There was no telling what the headmaster would say to him; how this conversation would end. He would just be polite, Jeongin decided. Polite and quiet and the picture of a dedicated student.

"So," the headmaster began as he circled behind his desk, sitting down slowly in his large, carved wood chair. Jeongin, it appeared, was supposed to stand. "Your father has informed me that you may be… involved, in some capacity, with another of the students here."

Jeongin said nothing, panicking internally over whether to agree or deny the accusation. Luckily, he was saved from having to answer by a deep sigh from the headmaster.

"It is not my place to verify these claims. Nor is it my place to police such matters, despite any… personal distaste for it I may have." He looked up, fixing Jeongin with a heavy, calculated stare. "I believe it to be in both of our best interests - yours, emotionally, and mine, financially - if you are to remain at this school. Therefore, I hope no future word of any… entanglement you find yourself involved in will make it back to me, or to your father. Do I make myself clear?"

Jeongin took a moment to process what he’d said. "You don’t care," he whispered eventually. "You don’t care what I do as long as my family keeps paying the school fees."

"Very good, Mr Yang. So, please continue to behave in whatever manner you choose, as long as you keep it  _ private _ . Allow your father to believe it has been snuffed out."

"Yes, sir," Jeongin managed to say. "I will."

"Good. Another little outburst like the one your father tells me you had over the holidays could be unpleasant for both of us. You’re dismissed."

The words took a moment to sink in, leaving Jeongin standing blankly in the middle of the office for a moment until he collected himself and stuttered out a thank you, rushing for the door.

He didn’t really breathe until he reached the bottom of the stairs, sitting down heavily on his suitcase for a moment and trying to steady his heart rate. That had been… fine. Strange, but fine.

_ I can do whatever I like _ _,_ Jeongin thought to himself, and a rush of elation followed it. Even if he didn’t have Hyunjin, even if kissing in the corridors was no longer a factor; he could do  _ anything _ _._ He could skip all his lessons to play the violin; meet Minho down by the wall and talk for hours; throw bottles for Seungmin to shoot. The headmaster wouldn’t want to expel him. Not as long as there was still money to be gained.

Getting to his feet and picking up his suitcase, Jeongin headed back towards the main staircase at the centre of the school. Hopefully, his dormmates would already be there, and they could share in his victory.

Opening the door to the atrium, Jeongin found himself almost immediately bundled into a hug.

"Jeongin!" Jisung cried happily, and Jeongin dropped his suitcase so that he could return the embrace, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s ribs. It was a little unusual that he wasn’t in the infirmary after a holiday, but Jeongin didn’t want to question it if it meant that Jisung was doing better. "You’re the last to come back, again."

"I didn’t know if I’d be coming back at all," Jeongin admitted, and he saw Seungmin and Chan frown in unison from the sofa. "Hi, guys."

"What do you mean you didn’t think you’d be back?" Chan asked slowly, and Jeongin felt something in him shrink away from his tone of voice a little. Somehow, the idea of Chan being disappointed in him was far more distressing than the knowledge that he’d upset either of his parents.

"I did something kind of stupid," he admitted, and the way Jisung pushed him away gently, holding him at arm’s length and meeting his eyes with such concern, almost made him burst into tears. He’d thought he might never have this again, and something about his friends being  _ right there _ after convincing himself he’d never see them…

"Oh, no. No tears," Jisung said gently as he held Jeongin close again, carding his fingers through his hair as Jeongin leaned down to press his face to Jisung’s shoulder. "No tears. It’s ok. You’re ok."

Someone else crowded in behind him, wrapping him up in their arms; Jeongin couldn’t tell if it was Chan or Seungmin, or one of the others just arriving, but he almost didn’t care. It was a friend. A member of his family.

Eventually, Jisung managed to lead him over to the sofa, sitting him down beside Chan whilst Seungmin - who had been the other person holding him - disappeared into his and Felix’s room to dig out some chocolate.

"Now," he said gently. "What happened? Is everything ok?"

Jeongin sighed, wiping at his eyes. "I came out to my parents," he said in a small voice. "I didn’t- I didn’t plan to, it just… it just  _ happened _ and they took it so badly and they almost didn’t let me come back."   


"Oh," Jisung said softly, pulling Jeongin back into a hug. "Oh, Jeongin. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through that."

Jeongin managed a watery laugh, taking a piece of the chocolate Seungmin was offering him; Changbin and Felix had emerged from the room with him, casting worried glances at one another. "Yeah, it was probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever done. But I talked to the headmaster, and he… he basically told me to keep it private so my dad would keep paying school fees." He hesitated, a familiar sorrow settling in his chest. "I guess that’s not a problem. It’s not like I have a boyfriend anymore."

"Jeongin," Seungmin began quietly, but Jeongin shook his head.

"Don’t, Seungmin. Don’t tell me he never said it was over, or that he still  _ looks _ at me when I’m not looking at him, it’s- it’s been months. If he wanted anything to do with me anymore, he should have said something." He curled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. "I can’t wait around forever," he whispered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jisung glance frantically at the others, apparently wanting to distract him somehow. Felix, apparently, was the one who decided to rise to the challenge.

"You know, you have Chan to thank for the fact that the headmaster’s so cool with it, right? It’s a hell of a story."

"I guess it is," Chan said slowly. "Want me to tell it? You can really only hang out with Minho so many times without actually finding out how we met."

"Sure," Jeongin agreed quietly. It couldn’t hurt, he thought, to let himself be distracted from thoughts of Hyunjin. He had to get used to this, after all.

"Ok!" Jisung said brightly. "Start right at the beginning. I like hearing this story."

"What appeals?" Seungmin asked teasingly. "The illegal bits?"

"That would make sense," Changbin remarked thoughtfully. "You know, if Jisung had a thing for bad boys."

"Shut up!" Jisung cried, and a laugh bubbled up in Jeongin’s chest before he could really think about feeling sad.

"He’s right," Chan agreed. "Shut up. I have a story to tell." The others obediently settled down, bundling onto the other sofa together like children, and Jeongin felt his heart lift just a little more as Chan began the story.

"It started back in first year," he explained. "Back when absolutely no one was out in this school."

"Chan’s a gay icon," Felix whispered to Jeongin across the gap between sofas, and Chan just rolled his eyes.

"I was bored, and I didn’t get on with the boys in my dorm, so I spent a lot of time wandering around the grounds. One of my favourite places was down by the wall; there’s this old shed down there full of pretty ancient radio equipment, and I liked to go and tinker with it. I think I sort of wanted to get it working, but I didn’t really know if it was just too old and too broken. But what I  _ didn’t _ realise for months was that someone else was sneaking into school over the wall to work on it too."

"You two geeks really were made for each other," Seungmin commented dryly, and Changbin hit him with a cushion.

"Minho was sneaking into school even before he met you?" Jeongin asked while they resolved their miniature battle, and Chan nodded.

"Yeah. He’d apparently just been looking for some shelter from the rain when he first found the shed, but once he’d decided it was a worthy technological challenge, he just kept coming back. And, of course, we bumped into each other." He shrugged. "We ended up as friends pretty quickly. I thought he was weird, and he thought I was standoffish, but we worked well together on the radio when we actually got around to it. Of course, I ended up with a crush on him after about a month."

"Back when you were still a closeted disaster with no idea how to talk to boys," Felix joked. "I wish I’d seen you like that. You’ve just been intimidatingly confident since day one from my perspective."

Chan laughed quietly. "Yeah, well. You know how this story ends. I deserve the confidence, right?"

"Yeah," Felix agreed. "You really do." His tone was one of genuine admiration, and Jeongin found himself getting more and more curious by the minute.

"Luckily," Chan continued. "Minho actually knew what he was doing, and flirted with me for long enough that I couldn’t fail to get the message." He shook his head. "Kept telling me he was bored of working on the radio and he’d rather do something else. You wouldn’t believe how long that took me to figure out."

"Ew," Jisung said, laughing and covering Jeongin’s ears. "You’re like our dads. That’s horrible to hear."

Chan snorted. "We never did anything  _ graphic _ in there. Just a lot of kissing. But I could stop telling the story, if you want…"

"No," Jeongin told him, pulling Jisung’s hands away from his ears. "You can’t. I need to hear the end."

"Ok then," Chan continued. "Everything was going pretty well until one of the assholes from my dorm decided to follow me. See where I was disappearing off to all the time. And he caught us. Minho and I. And that was enough to get me dragged in front of the headmaster for ‘improper conduct’." He sighed. "The implication was that I would get expelled for it. Even though it had nothing to do with any of the other boys at school, even though it had barely been happening within the grounds… it was enough. So I promised I’d end it, and Minho and I agreed not to see each other for a little while. Just so I had some time to figure something out."

"This is where the story starts getting famous," Changbin told Jeongin, leaning over the arm of the sofa to whisper conspiratorially, and Jeongin shifted a little closer to Chan as though to hear him better.

"There were rumours at the time," Chan said slowly, "of a good deal of the teachers complaining about not getting their supplies paid for, or their budget for their classrooms being lower than expected. And, of course, there was speculation about exactly where the money was going. I wasn’t exactly…  _ new _ to the idea of messing around with someone’s finances. My grandfather was a raging misogynist, and used to transfer money to my brother and I, but never our sister, so more than once I managed to get into his account and transfer her an equal amount."

"Geek," Seungmin muttered again, and Changbin elbowed him in the stomach.

Chan just kept speaking as though nothing had happened. "So, I waited until the headmaster was out of his office. Paid someone to catch him in the corridor and talk to him about predicted grades and how they’d convert to a university degree system. Something that would take a good while. And I messed around on his computer until I found what I needed."

"Oh," Jeongin said. "So that’s where it gets illegal."

"I mean, yeah," Chan agreed. "That’s not where it  _ stops _ , but that’s where it starts."

"Wait, how much more illegal does it get?"

"You’ll see," Felix told him with a grin.

"It turned out," Chan continued. "That the headmaster had been skimming some off the top of school funds. Never enough to really hurt the future of the school, but enough that he could probably afford much more expensive cigars. So, I told him I knew, and that I had proof, and that I thought we should have a conversation about his finances, and my freedom. We ended up with him agreeing to let me do what I wanted since, realistically, it was going to be much more beneficial to him; both in terms of my father continuing to pay my fees, and in me keeping his secrets."

"So you blackmailed him?" Jeongin asked incredulously.

"Present tense," Chan corrected. "I still am. I’ve passed the information onto Changbin, too, so he has it in case anyone decides to go after anyone in the dorm next year once I’ve left. It keeps us all safe." He smiled slightly. "Including you, now. I imagine he knows that we’re close."

"Tell us the end of the story," Felix interrupted. "We want to hear the happy ending!"

"There’s not much to tell. I contacted Minho and told him that we could meet up safely again. We decided to be a little more subtle anyway, just in case." He sighed. "Not that we have been this year. We’re not here for much longer. No point being overcautious."

"Where will you go?" Jeongin asked. "Once you both graduate."

"We’re going to stay with Minho’s parents for a little while," Chan told him. "Just until we can get jobs, and somewhere to live. I’m not going back to my family if I can help it. I’ve met Minho’s lot. They like me. Except for the smoking."

"Bet they’re thrilled by the idea that Minho’s fuelling that habit," Changbin pointed out, and Chan let out a short laugh.

"Oh, he’s doing his best to encourage me to kick it. I will, just… not while I’m here. Once things are better for us, you know?"

"Yeah," Jisung echoed. "Once things are better." And the wistfulness in his tone made Jeongin want to reach over and take his hand.

Jeongin spent the rest of the day in the atrium with the others, retreating to his room once the sun began to set. The days were beginning to get longer, evenings stretching out long and languid, painting the world gold with a Midas touch, and it wouldn’t be long until he began to struggle to sleep, daylight seeping out of the waking hours and into his dreams.

Perhaps he’d see Hyunjin then, Jeongin thought, and then caught himself. No more thinking like that. No more thinking of Hyunjin as though there were still any kind of potential there.

He glanced across at Hyunjin’s bed, scattered with books and bottles as usual. He’d ask Changbin about switching rooms again, he decided. Get it over and done with.

Before he could start hoping for everything Chan had. For a happy ending.

Throwing his suitcase under his bed and retreating to the bathroom to brush his teeth, Jeongin did his best to put it all out of his mind.

* * *

But the next day, Jeongin had his first conversation with Hyunjin since he’d told him that he loved him.

Jisung, Seungmin, and Changbin pulled him away from breakfast before he had a chance to eat, loading carrier bags with croissants and muffins. "We’re having a picnic outside," Jisung explained. "It’s the first properly sunny morning we’ve had in ages."

"We haven’t been able to do anything like this in a while," Seungmin said carefully, and Jeongin understood what he meant.  _ Jisung is genuinely excited about eating something, _ he heard between the lines.  _ Come and join in. Make him happy for me. _

"Sounds fun," Jeongin agreed, and Jisung smiled brighter than the sun outside.

Changbin hummed happily as the sunlight hit his skin when they made their way out of the main door, blankets and bags of food in hand. "I can’t believe Felix is shutting himself away in the art room instead of doing this," he sighed, and Seungmin laughed.

"The art room is basically where Felix lives. He said he might join us later, anyway."

"I hope he does," Changbin said with a wistful glance into his carrier bag. "I stole like, four of his favourite chocolate muffins."

"I’ll eat them if he doesn’t show up," Jeongin promised, and Changbin laughed, eyes shining in the sun.

They chose a spot close to the lake, spreading out their blankets and sitting down to share the food they’d taken. Seungmin seemed determined to sunbathe, closing his eyes and tilting his head back towards the light until Jisung pressed a strawberry to his lips, following it with a brief kiss.

Felix did join them in the end, just in time to see Jeongin start on a chocolate, and he begged for half of it until Changbin revealed that there were, in fact, three more. He was just beginning to tuck into one, throwing chocolate chips for Jeongin to catch in his mouth, when Hyunjin appeared on the horizon.

Jeongin did his best to look down, to ignore him as he made his way down from the school. He would most likely pass them by anyway, he reasoned, probably on his way to the woods or the little hill where he liked to sketch. There was no need to watch him on his way.

So he didn’t even realise that Hyunjin was heading in their direction until a shadow fell over him.

"Jeongin?" he heard Hyunjin say from above. "Can I… can I talk to you?"

And Jeongin’s heart just stuttered in his chest. He’d thought he wouldn’t hear that voice again. Had accepted, for the most part, that maybe he and Hyunjin wouldn’t even end up as friends after it all. But there he was, tall and shadowed against the sun, features hidden by the shade, and he wanted to  _ talk _ .

"Sure," Jeongin managed to say as the others sat in tense silence, voice shaking ever so slightly. "We can talk."

Hyunjin took a step back, obviously intending to take their conversation elsewhere, and Jeongin glanced around at the others in a kind of silent apology for being rude. Jisung offered him an encouraging smile in return, and Jeongin felt his heartbeat steady just a little.

He got to his feet, the change in angle allowing him to see Hyunjin’s face without the glare and shadow of the sun, and his breath almost left his lungs. Hyunjin was still beautiful. Still just as Jeongin remembered; a little more tired, perhaps, the circles under his eyes darker, but every feature the same.

_ I’m still in love with him _ _,_ Jeongin thought, and he almost wanted to laugh at his own determination the night before; his surety that if he tried, he could forget everything that had passed between them, make the feelings of grief and shock and adoration fade.

They wouldn’t fade. Not as long as Hyunjin was close by, sleeping just across from him, leaving books scattered over the space between them like stepping stones.

Hyunjin set off walking before Jeongin could consider it any longer, striding out towards the woods. Jeongin had to run a little to catch up with him at first, palm aching with the urge to reach out and take his hand, walk alongside him and match their steps. But Hyunjin seemed to have a destination in mind, walking with a purpose, so Jeongin just trailed a little way behind.

They were well into the woods when Hyunjin finally slowed, turning to face him. He wanted privacy, Jeongin supposed, and he did his best to suppress the slight soaring of hope from behind his ribcage.

"Chan…" Hyunjin began, gaze fixed on Jeongin. His eyes were wide, and Jeongin almost thought that he looked afraid. "Chan told me you came out to your family."

"Yeah," Jeongin said after a moment of distraction, trying to memorise every nuance of Hyunjin’s voice. "Yeah, I did. It didn’t go well."

"Why did you do it?" Hyunjin asked. "Why would you- did you know? Did you know that they wouldn’t be ok with it?" He seemed agitated, Jeongin realised, perhaps even bordering on angry, and it was more than a little confusing.

"I wasn’t sure," he replied carefully. "Now that I’ve done it, I think the signs were there all along that they wouldn’t like it, but- I didn’t do it on purpose, I didn’t  _ plan it _ _,_ it just- they were making me so angry, so-"

"So you put yourself in danger," Hyunjin finished, taking a slight step closer. The motion seemed involuntary; as though something were pulling him and Jeongin towards one another. "So you took your home life, which was- which was maybe not  _ good _ _,_ but not bad either, and you made it into something that could  _ genuinely _ get you hurt?"

"What- Hyunjin," Jeongin tried to say. "I didn’t- I just didn’t think, it wasn’t-"

"You  _ should  _ have thought!" Hyunjin shouted, startling the birds from the nearby trees. "Chan told me that they almost didn’t let you come back here, Jeongin, they almost- they almost didn’t let you come back to  _ me _ _._ I don’t- I can’t believe you’d do something like that, Jeongin, I-"

He broke off, running long fingers back through his hair, shorn short again, and Jeongin thought that he could see tears in his eyes. The sight chipped away at something in him, some reserve of anger that he’d left untouched since Hyunjin had started to pull away.

"Well, what do you care?" it made him say, and Hyunjin’s eyes went wide with shock. "You say that I almost couldn’t come back to  _ you _ , like it matters when you haven’t even been speaking to me. What would you have missed out on if I hadn’t come back, Hyunjin? Really? Absolutely nothing. Because you don’t talk to me, you barely look at me, you avoid being in the same room as me, you just- you act like I’m not here anyway! So why the  _ hell _ do you care?"

"Jeongin-"

"As soon as I said I loved you, you just vanished. Like I hadn’t mattered. Like I’d just been someone to mess with, and it wasn’t fun once I started taking it too seriously. And then you come and  _ yell at me _ for making my home life worse like it’s any of your  _ damn _ business, and-"

"It  _ is _ my business!"

"How?"

"Because if they hurt you, I’ll-" Hyunjin stopped, his entire demeanour turning small. "Because they can’t hurt you. They can’t. I care about you too much for you to get hurt, Jeongin, I- I love you too much to cope if you get hurt because they can’t accept you."

His words knocked the fury from Jeongin’s chest.

_ I love you _ _,_ Hyunjin had said.

_ I love you. _

"You- you love me?" he managed to ask, and Hyunjin took another fraction of a step closer.

"I love you," he confirmed, and his voice was shaking just as much as Jeongin’s. "I’m in love with you."

"Then- then why?" Jeongin asked helplessly. "Why did you leave when I told you that I felt the same, why did you start- why did you cut me off? If you… if you feel like that." The last vestiges of his anger were draining, running like snowmelt as Hyunjin’s words sank further into his bones. Hyunjin was in love with him. He had been all along.

For a long moment, Hyunjin didn’t speak. When he finally did, his voice was so small that Jeongin could barely hear it across the space. "Because I don’t- I don’t know how," Hyunjin told him. "I thought I did at first, back when we started. Back then you were so… you seemed so naïve, and so innocent, and I thought you were so lovely, and I- I knew what to do with that, there are… I’ve read love stories like that. Where one person helps teach the other who they are. And I thought I could be that to you, so I tried, and it worked, and I thought I was doing it right, but then you just… you changed so much and you were so wonderful and so much more sure of yourself and it was  _ beautiful _ , but I… I didn’t know how to love you like that. I didn’t know how to love you when you were more than I was. When you shone like that, when everyone else loved you so much as well."

"I-" Jeongin began, trying to wrap his head around Hyunjin’s words. "I don’t know what you mean. I don’t understand, Hyunjin, I-"

"I don’t know  _ how _ to be in love with someone, Jeongin," Hyunjin explained helplessly. "My family, they don’t- my parents don't love each other. They don’t love me. I never really had any friends at my old schools, I was too- too  _ much _ for most people. They didn’t want me. And then there were a few boys at my last school, boys that I flirted with, and tried to love, and-" he broke off for a moment, blinking away tears. "But it didn’t work. No one loved me until I came here, and even then, there was no romance in it. So I was just learning from books, from Romeo and Juliet and the Great Gatsby and Wuthering Heights, and then…"

He looked up, meeting Jeongin’s eyes with an expression so pained and so deeply, wildly afraid that Jeongin had to hold himself back from running to him. "And then there was you. And I saw you sitting there on that first night you arrived and I thought you were just… you were so  _ beautiful _ , Jeongin. So lovely, and so kind, and there was a… a  _ spark  _ to you that I’d never seen in anyone. So I got to know you better, and I realised so quickly that… that it was you. That I’d read all those books about love because I’d just been waiting for  _ you _ without even knowing it, and then I  _ tried _ , I tried to love you like they do in books because I don’t know how else to do it, Jeongin, but it didn’t- it didn’t work. And I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do, Jeongin, if this wasn’t going to be- to be some passionate, life-changing love affair where we only cared about each other and no one else mattered. But you were so gentle, when you said you loved me, and I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do. Not one single book I’ve read had prepared me for you being so- and I just left, because- because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to do it right. I still don’t." He paused, looking down at the grass between them. "I don’t think I know how to love you if it’s not a tragedy, Jeongin. I wish I did."

Jeongin watched in silence as he wiped away tears with his sleeve, avoiding Jeongin’s gaze once more. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know where to  _ begin _ with the idea that Hyunjin thought that Jeongin was the one he’d been waiting for his whole life, the only person he’d ever managed to learn how to love.

"Did you try?" he asked softly. Hyunjin looked at him for a moment, obviously uncertain of what he meant. "Did you try to love me without it being a tragedy?"

"Yes. I did, Jeongin, I-"

"No," Jeongin interrupted quietly. "You didn’t. You ran away when I told you I loved you. You could have- you could have told me this back then. I would have listened. We’re not- we’re not characters in a gothic romance novel, Hyunjin, we don’t have to wait for some great culmination of events before we can talk. We could have talked it through then. You could have told me that you needed time, at least. That’s what it means, Hyunjin. To have a love without tragedy. To- to talk about things. To rely on each other."

"I was scared," Hyunjin whispered after a long moment, and Jeongin closed the space between them, taking him by the hand and pulling him down to sit on the grass. Hyunjin’s knees folded easily, as though he’d been having trouble keeping himself upright even before Jeongin reached him. "Scared I’d lose you because I didn’t know how to love you properly."

"You don’t have to be," Jeongin told him. "You don’t have to be scared with me. I promise."

Hyunjin didn’t reply for a little while; he just stared, apparently taking in the minutiae of Jeongin’s expression. "This is what I meant," he said eventually, the softness of tone almost bordering on reverence. "When I said it was you I’d been waiting for. No one else makes me feel like this."

"Like what?"

"Like everything will be ok. Like I can trust them to catch me if I fall."

"You can. I promise. I want to be here for you, Hyunjin. I do. I want to learn how to do this with you." Jeongin offered him a faint smile. "I’ve never loved anyone, either. I don’t know how, exactly. But I want to try, with you. If you promise that you’ll try too."

He watched Hyunjin hesitate, heart sinking in his chest. Maybe Hyunjin would decide he wasn’t worth it. Maybe he would decide that it was too difficult to try, to learn to speak his heart, to rely on someone.

Jeongin wasn’t sure what he’d do if that was the case. He didn’t know if he could handle losing Hyunjin again so soon, after so much hope.

"I promise," Hyunjin said eventually. "I promise I’ll try. For you."

"For a happy ending," Jeongin suggested, and Hyunjin smiled at him for the first time in months.

"For a happy ending," he confirmed, and when Jeongin tentatively leaned in, Hyunjin moved to meet him, leaving the moment saturated with honey-sweetness as they kissed.

* * *

The months leading up to summer passed in a haze of paint-smeared skin and violin sonatas, picnics on the lawns and humid evenings spent sharing wine and honeyed kisses in the tower. Hyunjin resumed sleeping in Jeongin’s bed, holding him close and murmuring against the back of his shoulders or his neck when he awoke.

"Good morning, Dorian," he’d say softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Jeongin would reply, and Hyunjin would smile, warm and content, until the voices of the others from the atrium reminded them both that the day was beginning.

They  talked more than they had before, too; not all the time, and not always easily, but Jeongin could tell that Hyunjin was at least trying not to shut him out. He still retreated into himself sometimes, and Jeongin still grew frustrated trying to coax him out. But they talked.

"Are you still sure about this?" Hyunjin asked Jeongin one morning, quiet in the dawn. "I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. I don’t know if I’m making you happy."

"Will it help if I tell you that you are?" Jeongin replied softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "That I’m happier than I’ve ever been?"

"I don’t know."

"Ok. I’ll read to you, then."

"Ok, Dorian. Read to me."

Chan looked in on the two of them around midday, apparently worried by their absence, and Jeongin watched him take in the scene - Hyunjin curled up with his head in Jeongin’s lap while he recited quiet poetry from a stolen library book, fingers threading through his hair - and smile as he closed the door behind him.

A good deal of Hyunjin and Jeongin’s time, when they weren’t in their room or their lessons, was dedicated to finishing the portrait. "I want to get it done before the end of the year," Hyunjin told him as they sat in the music room, his head resting in Jeongin’s lap. "And then hang it in the place of one of those  _ boring _ paintings around the school."

Examining the size of the canvas, Jeongin thought about it for a moment. "The one at the top of the art room stairs," he suggested. "You know, the one of the boy sitting under the oak tree."

"Good plan," Hyunjin agreed, reaching up to smear half-dried paint from his hand over Jeongin’s cheekbone. "We can get the others to help."

"I like that idea."

* * *

They ended up enacting their plan on the very last day before the end of term. "I know we’d normally have a party," Chan had remarked as Changbin and Felix bickered quietly over the best way to remove the old painting from the frame. "But honestly, this feels like a bonding exercise."

"The last one we’ll get with you," Jisung pointed out, and Chan smiled a little sadly.

"Trust me," he said, "I’ll find a way to let you all know as soon as Minho and I have got our own place sorted, and then you can all come and visit during your holidays."

"As long as you’re willing to pretend you have a wife so that my parents will actually let me go," Jeongin muttered, Hyunjin’s hand tightening around his own, and Seungmin laughed slightly.

"I think Minho would look pretty in a wig," he said, and Chan’s eyes creased into a smile.

The goodbyes that took place the next morning were long, and somewhat tearful. Chan was bombarded with more affection than he seemed to know what to do with; embraces and handwritten notes and kisses pressed to his cheeks until he threatened, voice a little tight with emotion, to retreat to his room until it was time for him to go.

Jeongin was the next to leave, the chauffeur scheduled to collect him just before noon. The others seemed a little worried as they wished him well, Jisung advising him to keep his phone hidden in case his parents started checking his texts, Felix pushing a handwritten guide to his and Changbin’s codes into his hands so that he could attempt to communicate over summer without any suspicion.

"And hey," Seungmin told him as he pulled him into a crushing hug, "if they  _ really _ mess you up, I’ve got a gun and Jisung has promised me an alibi."

"I don’t think it’ll be that bad," Jeongin told him, doing his best to smile. "But thank you."

In lieu of any verbal goodbye, Hyunjin simply pulled Jeongin in for a long kiss, hands reaching into the pockets of his jacket to leave something there just as he had before Christmas. Jeongin gave him all the time he needed to arrange it, running his fingers through Hyunjin’s hair as he tried to memorise the taste of honey.

"I love you," Hyunjin whispered when he finally pulled away, removing his hand from Jeongin’s pocket so that he could caress his cheek.

"I love you, too," Jeongin told him, reaching up to touch the chain of the locket around his neck so that Hyunjin would know he still wore it. "I’ll see you in a few months."

"Yeah," Hyunjin agreed. "It’s not that long."

"It’s not."

"Too long, though."

"Yeah. Too long." Jeongin kissed him again, softer this time, and Hyunjin’s eyes shone with tears when they broke apart. Jeongin wanted to take a little longer, to stand there and kiss away the salt trails from his cheeks, but footsteps in the corridor grew closer to their dorm.

"Promise me you’ll be ok?" he asked, and Hyunjin nodded resolutely.

"Of course I will, Dorian," he promised. "I have you to come back to." Despite the way his jaw trembled, something in his tone made Jeongin believe him. Hyunjin would be all right. He’d manage until they could come home again.

Until they could see each other again.

* * *

The drive back to his parents’ house was almost unbearably long. Whatever Hyunjin had left in his pocket was burning a hole in his jacket, and Jeongin ran up to his room almost as soon as they arrived so that he could see what he’d been given. Neither of his parents stopped him, apparently resorting to stony silence. Jeongin was fine with that.

Gently, he removed two items from his pocket; a piece of paper, intricately folded into the shape of a rose, and a little pot of honey lip balm. There was writing on the paper, Jeongin noticed, and he did his best to twist and turn the petals without unfolding them or doing any damage so that he could read whatever message Hyunjin had left for him.

Sappho, he realised as he put the words together. It was Sappho.

_ You will have memories _ _,_ it read,  _ because of what we did back then, when we were new at this; yes, we did many things, then - all beautiful… _

Jeongin lay back on his bed, the rose resting on his palm as he thought of every memory Hyunjin had given him. Memories of poetry spoken over the rain, of broken glass sparkling in candlelight; of the taste of red wine in a thunderstorm, and the slide of paint over his skin; of kisses shared both boldly and in secret, in joy and in desperate, aching tears.

Memories unlike anything he’d ever had before.

_ All beautiful… _

They were, he realised. Even if some of them hurt, an old pain like a healing bruise, every memory he’d made with Hyunjin tied to it was  _ beautiful _ .

They’d make more, he knew. Maybe not just yet. But they would. Perhaps they were making them already; as he lay in bed, the taste of honey from Hyunjin’s lip balm fresh on his mouth; as Hyunjin unpacked, all those miles away, and hopefully found the letter Jeongin had hidden in his suitcase, a page in each of his books for him to find. New memories, waiting to bloom like flowers over the years Jeongin knew he and Hyunjin had waiting for them.

And they would be beautiful, too.


	7. jeongin's letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's your bonus chapter; a reminder that Jeongin loves Hyunjin, and will always love him. I hope it makes the idea of the two of them being apart over summer a little more bearable.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's read this, especially those of you who left comments and kudos! I'm not going to post for a few months due to academic commitments, but I'll still be writing, and I'll still be active on tumblr if you want sneak previews of how my latest projects are going!
> 
> Much love, Nettle <3

Part One:

Dear Hyunjin,

I hope you find this letter; I’m hiding it fairly well, I think, planning to scatter it across your favourite books like a treasure hunt. I’ve numbered them for you, so you should be able to piece it together, but you’re free to read it backwards if you want to, I suppose. I’m having to write it while you’re asleep, and it isn’t easy! Do you know that you talk in your sleep? I’ve never heard it before, but when I managed to sneak out of bed you asked me to come back. I thought you’d woken up, and I was ready to pretend that I was getting a glass of water, or going to the bathroom, but your eyes didn’t open. You just keep talking, asking for me to come back, saying you’re cold and that you want me to keep you warm. So, I’m writing this letter as quickly as I can, and going back to you.

* * *

Part Two:

If I’m honest, this whole experience is new to me. I’ve never written a letter like this before. But I wanted to give you something that you could keep with you through the months I can’t be there; something to remind you of me, and to remind you that you’re loved. Because I love you, Hyunjin. I love you more than I thought I could possibly love someone after nine months. I love you more than I have the words for, so you’ll have to excuse me for borrowing someone else’s in this letter. I have a list next to me, you see, of fragments of poems and prose that remind me of you, that say all the words I don’t know how to. I’ll do my best to include them all neatly, as much as I want to just write them out in one long string, a paper-chain of poetry for you to cut out and hang on your wall.

* * *

Part Three:

I think the difficult point is where exactly to begin; should I simply say that I love you again? Or should I say that you’re so much a part, so much all of me _(_ _ F. Scott Fitzgerald _ _)_ , that you are always new; the last of your kisses was even the sweetest, the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest _(_ _ Keats- I know we burned his books for firewood back in September, but he wrote some beautiful things! _ _)_. Should I say that I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air _(_ _ Stoker _ _)?_ Should I tell you that I think hell is the suffering of being unable to love _(_ _ Dostoevsky _ _)?_ Because I remember trying not to love you, Hyunjin, and I think I understood what he meant when he said that.

* * *

Part Four:

Or perhaps I should forget the classic authors; perhaps I should make you laugh, and quote Lemony Snicket when he said ‘I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong.’ Maybe that won’t make you laugh, actually; I think it might be romantic enough to make you cry.

* * *

Part Five:   
But the classics are what you love best (other than me, I hope), so let’s go back to them. So maybe I should tell you that  I see you ever ywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you’re everything that exists; the reality of everything _(_ _ Woolf _ _)._ That  I love you more than words can wield the matter, dearer than eyesight, space and liberty _(_ _ Shakespeare _ _)._ Maybe I should look back at my life before you, and how it is now, and say that I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you _(_ _ Charlotte Bront ë ). _

* * *

Part Six:

I love you, Hyunjin. I don't think I'd be the person I am today if I didn't love you. And I’m going to miss you. I hope this letter stops you from missing me too much, or that you can read it if your days get dark. I know it’s not the same as having someone there; I wish I could be with you over the summer, I wish I could still share a bed with you, and wake up to watch the dawn, and play the violin for you. But I can’t. So I just have to tell you that I love you as many times as I can within one letter, and hope that it’s enough.

Yours, absolutely,

Yours, with all the love I have,

Yours, every day I can’t be with you,

Dorian

P.S. I think you’ll find it funny that I typed most of this out beforehand; not the bit about you sleep-talking, of course, but anything with a quote involved. I’m sitting on the floor writing this down with a printed word document next to me, copying it word for word. It’s not such a romantic image as the idea of me pulling all of this straight out of my head, but I don’t have your capacity for romantic phrase. You’ll have to teach me.

P.P.S. I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know more about my works in progress and when they might be coming out, along with a lot of posts about writing and stray kids, come say hi on tumblr! I have the same username as I do on here: nettlestingsoup <3


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